


For The World We Know Can Be

by sweetnuisance



Series: Sculpted of Clay Series [3]
Category: Wonder Woman (2017)
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, F/F, Female Relationships, Fluff, Kid Fic, Mama Antiope & Mama Menalippe, Mother-Daughter Relationship, New Baby Amazons, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2019-08-18 19:07:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 99,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16522901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetnuisance/pseuds/sweetnuisance
Summary: Diana, Evandre and Deianeira return to Themyscira with a new generation of Amazons in tow.





	1. Tomorrow Will Come

 

The sounds of light footsteps draw Hippolyta from a dream of chasing two little girls, one dark-haired and the other golden blonde, across silver white sands. They both giggle and call out to her, the breeze blowing their loose hair across their faces as they look back, small hands forever just out of her reach. Hippolyta blinks and the vision of the beach saturated by a burning sun gives way to the warm glow of early dawn, Philippus sleeping beside her and the white cotton sheets of their bed caught in her fists. The muted noise that woke her continues, the soft sounds of leather against the tiled floor in the corridor beyond the bedroom door undoubtedly the shift change of the Guards outside. Of course there is little need for them to provide armed protection, even when the island was invaded the men never made it past the beach let alone to the Palace and if they had Hippolyta would have stood amongst her sisters to fight. But Amazon traditions such as the duties of the Queen’s Guard and rank in the Army are bound tightly into the tapestry of their daily lives on Themyscira since the threads were woven in far back in their history.

The shuffling noises fade a moment later, a hushed voice and then nothing more. Whoever has the watch of morning stands in silence outside so as not to disturb Hippolyta and Philippus still in bed. Rolling from her back Hippolyta pushes up on an elbow to regard her sleeping wife. The slits of the window shutters allow the morning sunlight through forming golden lines across the bed. Almost invisible against the linen they are bold across Philippus’ solid thigh, the plane of her stomach, the dip of her throat and collar bone, and her scrunched up face trying to press into the pillow.

Philippus starting the day with an ill-tempered disposition might not necessarily be from the sun in her eyes waking her but it likely is not helping the beginning of another morning of now familiar fretting from her wife.

“They will be home soon,” Hippolyta assures her, though Philippus has to be keeping a tally of the number of mornings Hippolyta has told her this already without their daughters returning. But Hippolyta’s voice alone regardless of her words eases her wife’s frown. Philippus’ full lips even turn up a little in a smile before moving in to steal a kiss, though it is only a brief one before the other woman pulls away.

“I have to be on duty soon,” Philippus grumbles as she sits up and swings her feet off the side of the bed. Throwing her arms above her head Philippus stretches out the stiffness from sleep and Hippolyta gazes appreciatively for a moment at the flexing muscles in her shoulders and back. Wanting to show Philippus some of that appreciation the Queen pitches herself against her lover, arms circling Philippus’ waist and hands closing over her breasts which immediately brings the other woman falling back to the mattress.

Twisting in each other’s arms the two women roll back across the bed. Hippolyta can easily match her partner’s strength but happily allows Philippus to pin her down, knees planted either side of Hippolyta’s hips as she settles herself to sit across her stomach. Hands clench tight in Hippolyta’s hair and with a deeply satisfied moan she allows Philippus to pull them together to claim a much fiercer kiss. Then Hippolyta is moaning in a far less satisfying way as her General manages to extract herself.

Unfulfilled Hippolyta drops back to the bed, eyes screwed closed and doing her best to calm her rapid heartrate and shallow breaths. When she opens them again Philippus is kneeling on the edge of the bed, one foot already on the floor. Her eyes rake up Hippolyta’s body, limbs sprawled with the sheets barely wrapped around her. “Surely a Queen has better things to be doing.”

“Other than lying naked in bed with my love? Nothing better at all.”

With Philippus keeping a distance between them still Hippolyta relents and tells her she does have a meeting this morning with Timandra. “Nushaba arrives this afternoon too with the harvest finished. I thought we could all eat together.”

“Of course. I can leave command of the third shift to Venelia, she needs the practice.”

In recent months the Lieutenant had been persistently asking for greater responsibilities within the Guard and Philippus had been more than happy to push her to her limits. Hippolyta was more intrigued by the motivations of the typically more impetuous woman, speculating with Timandra that perhaps Venelia was finally out to impress a woman with more than her wild nature and what was rumoured to be exceptional skills in the bedchamber, and elsewhere. The ‘elsewhere’ the royal couple discovered from personal experience when Venelia, out to impress an amazon from a northern village by showing her the hidden beauties of the Palace, had been caught mid-encounter and both half dressed in one of the state rooms.

Philippus assuming it now safe to lean over to kiss her wife had not counted on Hippolyta playing dirty and taking the opening to drag her down onto the bed again. What little skin the sheet had been covering is revealed to Philippus’ eyes and hands and Hippolyta thinks perhaps she can yet tempt her love back to bed. As if being taunted by the Gods her plans are interrupted by a sudden banging at the door, followed by Egeria barging in before either of them can answer. She and Melo who follows at her heels both blush furiously at the sight of their Queen and her Consort. Melo skids to a halt and her eyebrows shoot up before she spins to face one of the walls. Egeria just gaps at them.

Out of propriety more than modesty Hippolyta brings the tangled bedsheet over to cover herself while Philippus is less concerned with sparing the other women the sight of her naked body once she has climbed off her wife, taking her time in retrieving a sleep shirt from the floor beside the bed. She will almost certainly be having words with her Guards later about waiting for permission to enter before they go barging in to private quarters.

Melo speaks first, eyes still cast toward the wall hangings. “Apologies my Queen, General, but a boat approaches the island.”

Coming to her senses Egeria adds, “They’re back.”

Within minutes Hippolyta is leading Philippus and four of her Guards through the gates of the Palace, the explosion of hooves on the cobbles of the courtyard thunderous in the peaceful morning. Their ride is nothing like the cold, wet and stormy evening of Diana’s unexpected return; the sun is rising in an as yet cloudless sky, its warmth already bathing her skin. With their horses shoulder to shoulder Hippolyta can see Philippus fighting not to push Aquila as fast as she wants to, instead holding the golden stallion level with her horse Tharros through the near empty streets but the moment they get to the main road beyond the city wall that winds down to the port Philippus’ heals press into Aquila and the horse lengthens his strides at her command, drawing ahead of Hippolyta.

As they draw closer to the ocean the smell of salt in the air grows stronger and the cries of the seabirds louder and soon they arrive at the busy port to see an unfamiliar boat manoeuvring into the shelter of the harbour, pushing through the water among the fishing vessels returning with their morning catch. In the time it takes the group to pull up to the small building that accommodates the transactions of merchants and traders and for Hippolyta to drop from the saddle passing Tharros’ reins to Melo, the boat has settled against the end of the dock.

Hippolyta holds position on the shore with Philippus at her side and the Guards in a tight group at their back, allowing everyone around them to continue to do their jobs unhindered. With their daughter in sight Philippus’ posture relaxes noticeably, the tightness of her shoulders easing for the first time in weeks, but she keeps protocol and stands at Hippolyta’s right shoulder waiting. It is not so great a distance to the boat so they can clearly see Diana, Evandre and Deianeira working with the amazons on the shore, following instructions of the Harbour Master Cordelia and shouting a few back of their own. As if running triage after a battle Hippolyta searches for any signs of injuries but all three women seem as physically fine as when they left and whether it is purely wishful thinking on her part Hippolyta thinks Evandre seems far more at ease in herself and nothing but happy to be home again.

With that sense of relief settling over her Hippolyta can take in the unfamiliar vessel the young women have returned in and there is not much praiseworthy about it aside from the fact that it has brought them back home safe. At least the last one Diana acquired for her return journey had still utilised sails. The contempt on Cordelia’s face as she takes in the sight of it, the quick stuttering of the boat’s engine coming to a stop and the puffs of black smoke still pluming from an unknown source, should at least mean it will not mar Themyscira’s waters for long.

Following the lines of the flaking white painted boards of the hull up Hippolyta notices a face on board she does not recognise. One far too young to be an amazon.

“Oh Diana.”

The reprimands for her eldest daughter will have to wait as it is Evandre who is first off the boat making her way to her mothers, shepherding three girls up the length of the dock. Two little ones hold tight to her hands, one pressed close to Evandre’s side and the other only managing to keep moving forward due to Evandre leading the way by tugging her along as she looks in every direction but the path ahead. And there are a lot of distractions, the seabirds skimming the azure waters, the women working all about them balancing on the bobbing sail boats and throwing baskets of their catch up to those on the docks, the carts being wheeled up to the shore for inspection and packing. Not paying attention to where she places her feet the child stumbles a little as she cranes her neck to get a better view of the rising city in the distance and Evandre catches her full weight by a single arm until the girl rights herself.

A couple of steps behind them is an older girl, just in to adolescence if Hippolyta had to guess, one hand playing nervously with the strap of a bag slung across her shoulder and the other in a tight fist planted firmly in a pocket at her hip.

The closer Evandre gets the stronger the instinct to rush to her grows; to pull her youngest daughter to her chest and not let her go again, to ask all the questions that have prowled in the shadows of Hippolyta’s thoughts every day they have been apart. Only one detail stills her, the most important: her daughter is here and she is safe. Evandre smiles at the girl hugging her hip, laughs at something the other says, her eyes shining like the sun touching the ocean and Hippolyta knows without doubt that that place Evandre came from no longer has any claim over her.

“Evandre.” Hippolyta tries to remain poised in the face of their guests yet stern with her youngest daughter but the cheerfully guilty look on her face the moment Evandre hears her mother call her name is difficult not to smile at. No doubt Hippolyta has the same playful sparkle in her eyes she has seen so many times in Evandre’s as the corner of her mouth twitches.

“Girls, this is my mother Hippolyta, our Queen.” The breezy introduction Evandre gives indicates she is well aware there will be no punishment from Hippolyta, Queen or not, for bringing these children home.

“Mother, this is Ilse,” the red headed girl stops spinning on her toes a moment to face Hippolyta, “Astrid and Giesela.” The littlest girl waves her fingers at the Queen. The eldest, Giesela, nods and chews at her lower lip which is already swollen like a bee sting from the nervous habit. Hippolyta lowers her gaze a little to look at each of them and softens her smile.

“You are all welcome on Themyscira.” Then she looks to Evandre. “And you, have a lot of explaining to do.”

Under her breath Giesela mutters, “She hasn’t even seen the boys yet.”

Before she can be questioned Evandre hurries the children away from Hippolyta’s suspicious glare but before getting too far she is caught in her Papa’s arms. There’s a crushing hug, followed by Philippus taking Evandre’s face between her hands and firmly saying something too quiet for Hippolyta to hear before dragging their daughter back into her arms. Evandre still holding on to both of the little girls’ hands during it all is powerless to fight against it.

“Papa,” she manages to gasp out with her face pressed in the crook of Philippus’ neck. “You have to let go.”

“Never again.” Astrid giggles at the remark then stops abruptly, wide-eyed at being caught when Philippus grins down at her.

Hippolyta’s attention is drawn away from Evandre and the girls as Deianeira comes toward her next with a baby held in a sling against her chest. Her hand strokes gently at the peach fuzz of dark-honey coloured hair causing the baby to tilt their head back and Hippolyta’s heart is seized by the soft brown eyes and bright pink lips.

“My Queen,” Deianeira greets her with her head bowed a little, hesitant to meet Hippolyta’s gaze. Evandre has lived a lifetime of skirting the guilt of possibly disappointing her parents, while Deianeira at times still fears the wrath of a Queen.

Hippolyta lays a hand on Deianeira’s forearm and waits for the younger woman to meet her eye. “We will talk later.” Keeping her voice gentle the words are intended to reassure, to extend the comfort of a mother. And now a grandmother she supposes. Deianeira gives a slight nod before moving to her partner’s side and Philippus’ welcome.

That leaves only Diana to return to her. The Queen’s eldest daughter had helped tie up the boat and unload packs and supplies which needed to be taken ashore before heading toward them but her progress is slowed even more by the boy holding her hand. He must be around two or three, sandy blond unkempt hair blowing across his face as he stares to the floor engrossed in looking at his feet on the wooden boards and the gaps which allow him to see the blue of the ocean beneath. When he eventually looks up and registers the group of amazons waiting ahead, Hippolyta, Philippus and the flank of Royal Guards, he fumbles at Diana’s leg until she picks him up but he doesn’t take his eyes back off Hippolyta.

“Mother, meet Arno.” Hippolyta brushes the back of her hand down they boy’s cheek. His arms are around Diana’s neck, fingers flexing against her skin like he’s trying to get a grip and he nuzzles into her shyly. After a moment he peeks out and then hides his face again, laughing a little as he does.

“You brought home a Prince?”

“Two actually.” Diana grins at her mother’s resigned sigh when they both turn to Deianeira and the baby, Evandre stood with them.

Most of their entourage walk back to the Palace, Melo being the one left behind to arrange for the return of the horses. Evandre still holds the hands of the younger girls, for one it is to offer reassurance in this strange place, the skinny brunette Astrid seeming as timid as a rabbit. For the other, Ilse, it is certainly to keep her from wandering off. The redhead tugs at Evandre’s arm constantly as her attention is caught by something new they pass.

Just inside the city walls Ilse twists enough to break the hold of Evandre’s fingers. Hippolyta a few paces behind them takes the girl by the shoulders while she gapes at the armoury tower rising to the sky on the hill above them and guides her back to Evandre’s side.

“You almost lost one.”

Evandre gives a tired sigh before stopping and looking down at the girl, Astrid curling against her leg.

“Ilse, if you do not hold my hand you will have to walk with Deianeira.” It seems a pretty innocuous threat but the girl immediately takes hold of Evandre’s offered hand and promises not to let go again. Ahead of them Deianeira glances over her shoulder smiling at the words but being sure to catch Ilse’s eye to let her know she needs to behave herself.

When they get to the Palace there are excited gasps and awed mutterings from the children and Hippolyta sees Senator Timandra at the main gate speaking with Venelia, currently on duty at the guard post. Venelia pulls herself to attention at the sight of her Queen and General and Timandra gives a nod to Hippolyta. As always on Themyscira word must have spread quickly as neither of them seem surprised either by the return of their sister Deianeira and the Princesses or by the appearance of more children on the island.

Hippolyta watches Venelia welcome back Evandre, leaning in over Astrid’s head to hook an arm around the younger amazon’s neck and kiss her forehead. Venelia has always had a soft spot for both Princesses but Evandre was the baby that she doted on whenever she could. Diana follows behind and of course the Lieutenant welcomes her back too but Hippolyta notes that though the two women are close friends their reunion is far more guarded before Diana is pulled along with the tide of the group.

With Egeria remaining at the gatehouse it leaves only Aella and Orithyia as escort. Hippolyta draws ahead of them to lead the group through the hallways to the main reception room and the two Guards then take position at the doors while everyone else files in.

The large fireplace is unlit but is still the centre piece of the room; the wall in which it is inset is decorated with gold leaf patterns of vines, olive trees and flashes of various birds of paradise in flight above the eye line and peacocks strutting lower down. The doors out to the balcony are closed but the shutters of the windows are flung open wide and the room is bright with the sunlight spilling in making the golds of the room shine. The pools of sunlight reach each of the half dozen finely embroidered soft couches scattered around the room that sweep up at one end to lean against when lounging.

The girls are all equally captivated; the little ones letting go of Evandre to run their small hands along the walls and over the chairs, any surface within reach. The older girl Giesela stops in the centre of the room when she gazes up and sees the ceiling carvings and the central mural, turning a slow circle on the spot as she drinks in every detail.

Philippus lifts the baby from Deianeira allowing the young amazon to untie the cloth strap from around her shoulder. Bouncing him in her arms Philippus brings the boy to Hippolyta’s side and he fixes his deep brown eyes on her. He blinks slowly, soft golden lashes fluttering, and a serious frown settles across his forehead. Hippolyta traces the line hoping to ease whatever can worry a baby but of course her touch is nothing compared to the sight of his mother and once Deianeira is back in his eye line the little crease fades away.

“His name is Wolf,” Deianeira offers with a timid smile, waiting to gauge their reaction.

Wolf grips Philippus’ finger as she strokes his chubby cheek and he pulls it to his mouth, chewing it between his gums. “He’s a strong one,” Philippus announces proudly, happy to allow her newly acquired grandson to continue dribbling on her.

When Deianeira lets out a sigh of relief at their acceptance Hippolyta raises an eyebrow. Chagrined the young woman admits, “I was not sure how you would receive a boy.”

“With love, Deianeira.”

The two of them move to sit on chairs against the wall looking over the rest of the room with Philippus remaining standing beside them. Their conversation is covered from being overheard by Philippus’ one sided discussion with the baby boy, telling him all the things they will do together as he grows up.

“Not so long ago to say such a thing would have been harder,” Hippolyta admits. Not proud how she had once so casually dismissed Diana’s impassioned pleas to offer aid in the defence of the world of Men. “I thought only to protect my sisters, to protect Diana”

Deianeira can’t help but turn to gaze tenderly at the boy, already feeling the same pull of motherhood to safeguard and shield her child.

“But her leaving, returning with Evandre… it reminded me of our original purpose and the good we can bring to the world, to each other. That starts with love.”

It had started for Hippolyta with accepting the love of that baby girl her daughter brought to her. Then Evandre had given that love to Deianeira and now they will share it with these children.

“I am sure on Themyscira Wolf, and Arno, will grow to be strong and noble men. And fine amazons.”

Even if they are to be Princes Hippolyta would have no intention of them being treated any differently from the girls. Across the room Timandra is sat on one of the couches with Ilse standing before her between her knees, waving her arms telling an animated story. The little one, Astrid, sits on one of the other couches taking a cup of water Evandre offers her. Her dark hair is in a loose braid which Evandre tugs at playfully while the girl drinks.

Keeping herself distanced from everyone else Giesela paces the edge of the room but keeps the other children in her sight at all times. She had remained quiet the entire walk to the Palace after her single comment on the dock but Hippolyta is sure the girl has not missed a single detail of what has been said around her or the minutiae of all that she has seen so far.

Turning to Philippus and interrupting her still ongoing discussion with Wolf, Hippolyta asks, “My love, could you and Timandra look after the children a moment.”

Her words do not only catch the attention of Diana and Evandre across the room. “Are you in trouble?” Astrid asks Evandre quietly.

Evandre gives the girl a wink. “Only a little.” Then more seriously she adds, “If you need anything while we are gone you just ask my Papa.” She also looks to Giesela skulking by the window to be sure she heard.

Sat on the floor at Diana’s feet near the open fireplace Arno had been happily playing with a small carved wooden animal, a horse maybe though the detail isn’t especially clear. If Hippolyta recalled the end products of both her daughters’ brief lessons in carpentry as children she is pretty convinced this is one of Evandre’s efforts. The memory of her proudly presenting Philippus with her first carving only to burst in to tears when her Papa had incorrectly assumed her lynx was a goat is still vivid.

When Diana stands Arno also climbs to his feet, bracing himself with both palms flat of the tiled floor and lifting his bottom in the air first before straightening. When he attempts to follow Diana across the room Giesela leaves her corner sensing the inevitable tantrum and kneels beside the boy, locking her arms around his waist. Diana attempts to reassure him but he has already realised she is trying to leave the room without him and fat tears are soon rolling down his cheeks.

Evandre’s first tears on Themyscira had not been dissimilar, followed by the whimpers and then shouts of ‘no’. But they had all soon stopped once Hippolyta held her.

“Diana, you can bring the boy.”

With the squirming toddler in her arms Diana leads the way to Hippolyta’s study, followed by Evandre then Deianeira and the Queen. As Hippolyta closes the double doors behind them and turns to face the younger amazons both her daughters declare together, “It was my fault.”

They look at each other and Evandre lifts her hands palms up and shakes her head in question. In response Diana’s shoulders rise and over the top of Arno’s head her brow scrunches up in obvious exasperation at her little sister.

Deianeira has wisely chosen to stand herself a little apart from the other two. “Care to join the martyrs Deianeira?”

“Not at all my Queen.”

It is Diana who tells Hippolyta their story with only a few true interruptions from Evandre, but plenty of shushes from Deianeira to warn her partner to keep quiet before she even gets that far. As Diana concludes with night falling over their boat and navigating by starlight before breaking through the protective barrier around Themyscira all three women fall silent waiting on their Queen to pass her judgement upon them.

“I cannot tell you how relieved I am to have you all home safe. Or how utterly unsurprised I am that you returned with these children in tow.” Not one of them has the grace to look even the slightest bit contrite but Deianeira at least lowers her face to try to hide her smirk from Hippolyta.

“It is already evident that the boys are now part of the Royal Family but what to do with the girls will need to be decided. For now they can be made comfortable in the Palace until they settle into life on Themyscira.”

It seems they are about to be dismissed but Evandre speaks up.

“Mother, I’d like to have Epione to come look at Astrid. She barely eats, tires too easily...” She trails off as Hippolyta holds out her hand to halt the explanation and of course nods her consent to call for their most trusted healer.

Thinking of the near silent boy in Diana’s arms who should be using so many words by his age and the wary, isolated pacing of Giesela beyond the closed doors Hippolyta asks them, “Is anything else we should be concerned with?” She has only spent an hour or so in the company of the children and can already see all is not as it should be.

The three woman share a look between them before Deianeira acts as their spokesperson. “They have all been through things no child should.”

Each of them in this room and every amazon on the island had been touched by the darkness of Man’s world in some way. It is a darkness they have not quite banished from their lives even now and Hippolyta realises these children, the girls and Arno, have likely brought with them yet more insecurities and nightmares to Themyscira.

But they are also already sharing new light to help drive back the shadows. Arno’s cornflower blue eyes are fixed on her again, happy to quietly contemplate the world around him. And beyond the closed doors Hippolyta can hear the delighted laughter only children can make.

They leave the study to find Nushaba has joined her wife and Philippus in entertaining the children. Diana watches her mother and Deianeira return immediately to Philippus and the baby while Evandre ducks out of the doors to the hallway to ask Aella to fetch Epione. As she does she crosses paths with Larina bustling in with a tray of food, a late breakfast of meat, fruits and bread which she takes to the large table near the balcony doors. The tray itself is easily the size of a cartwheel but Larina makes light work of it, the muscles of her arms easily a match for Artemis. Diana can still recall the woman making all the chores Diana had to help out with as a child look near effortless while she felt like she was struggling inelegantly through each task.

Rather than wander off when Diana sets him down Arno drops himself right back to the floor at her feet again, his fall broken by the padding of the cloth wrapped around his hips in case of accidents. In the middle of the room where Diana stands and without a care to anything happening around him Arno happily resumes tapping his wooden horse against the floor. The amazon feels a tug at her belt and as soon as Ilse has her attention the girl presses her face against Diana’s arm and gazes up at her, green eyes sparkling.

“Can we go outside? Please.”

At her plea the gathering move outside onto the balcony, Larina again hefting up the food tray then laying its load across the two smaller round tables in the sunshine. Before heading back to the kitchens she makes certain Deianeira knows there is fresh warm goat’s milk for the baby but to send word straight to the kitchens if he needs more. No one will go hungry on her watch.

Stopping by Hippolyta before she goes Larina adds, “Oh, and I had Hypsepyle fetch some of the young princess’ old things from storage. The crib for this little one, toys and books, and I’m sure we will find some suitable clothing for them all.”

“Thank you Larina.”

Diana gathers some bread and grapes in a napkin and then sits herself on the lawn below the balcony with Arno wandering around her. Eventually he leaves his horse abandoned in the grass to venture further away but keeps checking over his shoulder to ensure Diana is still where he left her. When he feels he’s gone far enough he’ll amble back and she’ll hand him a piece of fruit and then he will try a few more feet away from her before repeating the whole process again.

Around Arno, Ilse chases Astrid through the lush grass. They had already crawled through the flowerbeds just below where the adults sit while above them Giesela hovered anxiously at the balustrade watching until Deianeira inched toward the girl and brushed her arm. She had yielded just enough to sit down but keeps her eyes on the girls still.

When Arno bores and heads towards the steps back to the balcony Diana follows his lead. As he leans forward on both his hands to climb the first step Diana scoops him up and sets him at the top and he walks to the table without her hovering over him where Evandre hands the boy a small chunk of bread to chew on.

Diana feels fingertips ghosting her arm and looks to Giesela sat beside the top step. Seeing her biting her bottom lip again has Diana concerned, more so when says nothing. Leaning closer to allow the girl to whisper to her the apprehension immediately eases at Giesela’s words but the girl’s troubled expression remains so it is on Diana to do some reassuring of her own.

She crouches down beside the chair and says softly, “We have plumbing. It’s a little different to what you know but it is better than in the forest.” Giesela blushes slightly, glancing around at the other women hoping they weren’t overheard as Diana offers to show her to the facilities.

Diana excuses them both without giving details of their departure but takes Arno’s hand to have him come with them. She knows that soon she will have to address his anxiety at being separated from her but that can wait a few more days, now they are home there is no rush to do so and she can give him a little more time to adjust to new surroundings once again and a growing family.

The three of them return to the balcony shortly after Epione’s arrival and Evandre is just calling the girls back from play. The pair come racing up the steps but in truth it isn’t much of a race as Astrid is far slower and almost stumbles at the last step. She is breathing a little raggedly as Evandre holds the girl in front of her to introduce Epione. Astrid’s grip on Evandre’s hand tightens noticeably as Epione kneels in front of her to say hello and the minute she is allowed Astrid retreats to Giesela, squirming under the reluctant older girl’s arm.

“I’ll just observe her for the moment,” Epione assures Evandre. “It will do less harm than forcing the child to be examined.” She can tell her words have done nothing to ease Evandre’s impatience to get whatever is wrong fixed. “I recall you were never overly keen on such things yourself and you had known me your whole life, Evandre. We just need to show a little patience.”

On the far table Ilse is standing between Nushaba and Timandra, excitedly telling them of the imaginary adventure she and Astrid had been on through the ornamental shrubbery. She reaches out to grab a pear from the table while still talking over her shoulder only for Timandra to grasp her wrist and wipe her dirty hand on a cloth before she can reach it. Ilse’s freckled nose crinkles up with a cheeky smile as she bites into the pear held in her now clean hand while holding the other out for Timandra to finish the job.

While the scene amuses Diana she is not having much more luck keeping Arno clean as he sits on her knee. In just a few minutes at the tableside he has managed to get his face covered in the sticky red juice from pomegranate seeds that Philippus has been feeding him and to round things off Wolf seems to be making a mess of his own that they would all rather not dwell on, Deianeira lifting the baby up under his arms and taking a sniff to confirm the suspicion.

Bouncing a giggling Arno on her knees while trying to hold his hands away from his face, light coloured clothing and herself, Diana says, “I think maybe the children might benefit from a trip to the bathing pools.”

Her mother eyes her. “Diana you have been travelling on a boat for two days, you could all benefit from a trip to the bathing pools.”

Diana calls Ilse to her and Arno wriggles to get his feet on the floor. The seven year old takes his hand without a care that it is sticky and the pair walk back into the Palace beside the amazon.

Evandre lifts Astrid from beside Giesela, the smaller girl gladly dropping her head onto the woman’s shoulder. Staying seated Giesela shifts only enough to slide her hands beneath her thighs and lean forward, the loose strands of her hair falling to cover her face. “I’m fine, I don’t need to bathe. I can wash before bed.”

It takes a little coaxing from Evandre but eventually she gives in to going willingly if not gladly, though mostly in an effort to avoid the scrutiny of the older women around them. The parts of the Palace they had seen so far seemed to have been cut into the stone of the mountainside and then built further outward, the walls then smoothed and polished or ornately carved to finish. After a minute they step from those corridors into ones more like a natural formation of rock that then open up into a labyrinth of caves with glowing pools of water. Some are tiered like fancy fountains flowing down one into another and there are a couple of large ones that even a grown-up could properly swim in and not just sit and wash.

The others had not waited around for Evandre, Astrid and Giesela and are already in one of the larger pools. Wolf, sleepy after his milk and from the warmth of the waters, is in Deianeira’s arms held to her chest as she bobs gently in the water. Diana seems to have persuaded Arno not to cling to her and he paddles in little circles around her instead.

Evandre helps Astrid out of her clothes, rinses her down from a great pitcher beside the pool and then lifts her in to splash through the water to Ilse, suddenly wide awake again.

Giesela hangs back, desperately hoping her attempt to avoid looking at quite that much flesh on display is not as obvious as it feels. It had been far too cold back in the forest to even think about stripping down and there were bathroom doors to hide behind when they did have a roof to sleep under. Evandre has already pulled her top off over her head when she turns to Giesela who gives a startled squeak. The girl is immensely grateful when she isn’t lectured on not following suit but instead Evandre points toward the copper bowls and cloths stacked in an alcove behind her.

Kneeling on a towel by the wall beside a glass vase filled with the brightly luminescent water, Giesela reaches beneath her blouse to wash. She’s certainly not dirty like the little kids, no mud or food all over her, but they haven’t been able to bathe properly since before the boat journey and it is a relief to feel fresh again. But she cannot help the occasional longing glance toward the radiant blue water that trails white light when the others swim through it and more glass jars filled with it glow like soft lamps all around the cavern. The water in the bowl is warm and she wonders how good it would fill to lie in it completely but is not yet comfortable with the idea of joining everyone else no matter how tempted she is.

In the chamber they can all hear footsteps of someone approaching as they echo down the passageway before another amazon appears. Evandre calls out a greeting of ‘Menalippe’ and Giesela realises this is her and Diana’s aunt. Menalippe has an armful of clean clothing, a mix of those they had brought back with them on the boat and what Giesela assumes Larina has found. There are so many new faces today Giesela is feeling tired from her heart racing so much and aches from trying to keep her legs still when all she wants to do is run and hide.

When Menalippe puts her bundle down she glances to the bowl and cloth at Giesela’s knees.

“Come with me.”

Giesela hadn’t expected the woman’s voice to be so soft, she looks fierce and strong and more than a little intimidating. All the women do and Giesela had never met anyone like them before seeing Diana first in the forest. But after travelling with the amazons to get here Giesela is beginning to understand that maybe being gentle and caring doesn’t have to mean weak. She still has to fight her fearful instincts to allow Menalippe to lead her to another alcove, larger than the ones with the stacked bowls, but that fear is not so loud as it once was.

Before them and hidden from view of the main chamber is a smaller pool that might fit two or three people, a warm mist rising from its surface. Menalippe turns her back to allow the girl some privacy, hearing her shuffle from foot to foot and items of clothing hitting the floor as she strips quickly before the splash of her climbing into the water. When Menalippe turns she sees Giesela sinking up to her chin with her eyes closed in bliss. “I’ll be right outside if you need anything.”

Back in the main chamber Menalippe sits on the steps beside the large pool where Diana now rests on one of the carved seats watching Evandre with her hands under the little boy’s belly as he kicks his way through the water, arms paddling fiercely. Without much thought Menalippe reaches out to comb her fingers through Diana’s damp hair at her scalp while looking back at the pool where she left the girl.

Her attention being elsewhere does not go unnoticed by Diana. “She doesn’t know if she wants to be an adult or a child. And she certainly has no idea which is expected of her anymore.”

Menalippe smiles down at her. “I remember what you and Evandre were like at her age.” Evandre splashes nearby causing all the children to squeal and Deianeira to throw her partner a very disapproving look. “Of course for your sister it often seems not all that long ago.”

When the children, including the older one who should know better, have calmed down Diana introduces Menalippe to the new family members. Hippolyta had told her and Antiope already that they now had two great-nephews but of course the girls would be sister amazons and just as much family as every other woman on Themyscira.

When Astrid enthusiastically shows Evandre how her fingers have wrinkled up from the water they decide that it is perhaps enough bathing for today. Menalippe takes a dry towel and a selection of clothing to Giesela, calling out before stepping into the alcove to find Giesela dipping down again to her chin in the deep blue of the water.

When everyone is dry and dressed the group heads to the courtyard where Menalippe informs them Hippolyta said they would be waiting. In the end all the children had chosen from the clothing Menalippe had brought them instead of their own clothing. Ilse and Giesela are both in casual dresses which are still the finest clothes either of them have seen in a long time, Ilse’s pale green dress is loose and flowing while Giesela’s is belted at her waist. The soft sky blue fabric makes Giesela think of her old Sunday school dress with white ribbons.

Astrid picks loose trousers ending below her knee and Deianeira chooses a soft cotton bodice to go with it. In the warmth of the late afternoon Arno wears the same style of trousers but nothing to cover his skinny chest, the lines of his ribs clearly visible.

From a room in the Palace they walk through a tunnel of wooden trellis woven with vines and bright flowers into another outside space. The balcony earlier had a view of the gardens and the sea below the Palace but here that scene is hidden by high sand coloured stone walls. It is remarkably pretty in its own way though with more trellis work helping plants to climb up some of the walls, pots of exotic looking flora scattered about the long table in its centre and a couple of trees growing right up from beneath the paved ground. An as yet unlit fire pit sits in one corner of the courtyard but there are a couple of small water fountains bubbling away, the droplets falling back down into the water buckets echoing off the stonework to sound like a light distant rain.

Giesela takes a seat beside Deianeira with the baby now in a high chair on the woman’s other side; it is just like the ones back home but the wood is engraved far more intricately with patterns that run up the legs and across the back piece. Giesela finds herself less concerned with keeping her eye on the littler kids now and instead watches the women around her, fitting what stories Diana and Evandre had told them to the faces. The Queen and her Consort, their Mama and Papa. Antiope and Menalippe, the warrior aunts. Epione the healer.

She knows the least about Nushaba and Timandra, the Vintner and Senator they had meet that morning but Nushaba has made fast friends with Ilse. Holding her hand they wander the courtyard, Ilse still asking all sorts of questions. Giesela wonders where they all comes from but perhaps being able to spend some time apart now they are no longer travelling or trapped on a boat will not be such a bad thing; she had woken too many times in their stupid cramped tent with Ilse pressed by her ear talking in her sleep. Beneath a tree with snow white blossoms they sit on a stone bench and Nushaba helps Ilse make a chain of flowers that the woman then weaves through her auburn curls which makes the girl beyond happy. She shouts out to Evandre, even though Evandre is sitting not that far away, “Better than ribbons.”

Arno ventures from Diana finally, pausing a little at Philippus’ knee a little in wonder of her and when she smiles at him he gives a wide toothy grin back. As usual he utters a lots of ‘ugh’ sounds and points toward anything he wants to investigate. Arno not speaking is something they’ve all gotten used to, like Astrid always whispering, but the Queen seems more concerned that he should be talking by now.

“He will speak when he is ready Hippolyta. Leave the boy be.” Antiope tells her sister as Arno uses her knees to rest against while he decides where or who to go to next. She reaches down to brush the wild hair away from his eyes and catches the tip of his ear between her thumb and finger. Gently Antiope wiggles it causing Arno to giggle and poke his tongue out at her before he moves on.

Finally he settles on Hippolyta and attempts to crawl up into her lap. Hooking her arm under his backside the Queen pulls him up and he shuffles back on her thighs until he is settled then brings his thumb between his lips. It isn’t long before his other hand plays with the ends of Hippolyta’s hair. She seems to not even notice when he tries to put a braid in his mouth and yet without even looking or breaking from the conversation she is having with Timandra she manages to take her hair from him gently. When a chill creeps into the air Diana leans across and pulls him forward slightly to wrap a shawl around his shoulders and then he curls right back up in his new grandmother’s lap.

It is Epione who has Astrid on her lap. Giesela had observed Evandre speaking with the woman earlier before Evandre had even tried introducing her to Astrid and she had also not missed the many conversations about Astrid that Evandre, Deianeira and Diana had had while they travelled. Earlier, before the bathing pools, Giesela could tell Epione was assessing Astrid like a doctor would, managing to do so without the little girl even realising. Now though Astrid is sitting across the woman’s knees with Epione’s fingers combing through her still damp hair. Astrid has gathered some of the woman’s flowing lavender dress in her hand and is absently rubbing it against her cheek.

It has been quite a while since she has not had to think of the care of the other children and even though she is still cautious of hoping for too much, it is the first time in a very long while that Giesela hasn’t been consumed by wondering what will happen to her next.

The sky is still light when the food is brought to the table but as it is being laid out Antiope moves around the courtyard lighting the lanterns that hang from the trellis anyway so they won’t need to worry as the sun sets later. When everyone takes a seat at the table she finds herself with Timandra to her left and Giesela at her right hand side, Menalippe across from her beside Evandre. The food is not extravagant, though Larina and her staff can cook a celebration feast that would put a Roman Emperor to shame, but there is plenty on offer.

Ilse seems determined to try a bite of everything on the table until Timandra warns her, “Child, you will be sick if you do not slow down.”

Further along the table Diana is helping Arno with his food, making sure everything is in small enough pieces for him and taking half chewed bits of meat from his hand when he bores of the taste or catching unwanted vegetables in the palm of her hand that he spits out with distaste after trying. It is just like watching her with Evandre as a child again, the wild blonde hair and earnest gaze, the pout when he does not get what he wants.

Then just the other side of the table that same little girl is sat all grown up and with a baby of her own, trying to feed Wolf who seems uninterested in whatever is on the end of the spoon she presses to his closed mouth.

When Diana tries to convince Astrid to try the dolmades, the girl’s lips pull into a disgusted frown as the roll of stuffed vine leaf is held before her and Epione chuckles a little, shaking her head at Diana and then trying herself to see if she can interest Astrid in a skewer of grilled meat instead. If the little one is not interested in the dolmades Antiope certainly is. Getting to her feet to reach far enough across the table Antiope momentarily shields Giesela from the view of the others and from the corner of her eye catches the girl seizing the opportunity to snatch one of the bread rolls from the basket at the edge of the table unnoticed before slipping it into the wide pocket of her dress.

Not wanting to draw any attention upon either of them, beyond the disapproving glare she has already received from Hippolyta for not simply asking to be passed the dolmades, Antiope drops back into her chair and places the stuffed vine leaves on her plate. As she leans in close to Giesela Antiope notices the girl tense slightly beside her and immediately wishes there was more she could do to calm the girl’s fears. She glances up briefly and notes Menalippe is regarding them both carefully from across the table. And though her wife cannot have seen what she has, Antiope can read the gentle encouragement in Menalippe’s gaze.

“You will not go hungry here,” she says, low enough so only the two of them can hear.

When Giesela flushes guiltily and fumbles to reach into her pocket to retrieve the roll Antiope lightly lays a hand on Giesela’s arm to stop her. “It is okay if you do not believe that yet.”

By the time they have all eaten their fill, and very little beside crumbs and discarded bones remain on the table, the sky is a dusky pink and grey and the lanterns are giving off a warm orange glow that casts shadows in the far corners of the courtyard.

The children are all increasingly tired; Arno growing fussy, Astrid struggling to get her eyes to stay open and Ilse becoming fidgety and irritable. Beside her Antiope watches Giesela fighting against the urge to lean her whole body against Evandre, now sat beside her where Deianeira had started the evening. Already Antiope can see the girl is a stubborn little thing, so much like Diana and Evandre both in that sense. But it is distressing to watch that stubbornness keep her from seeking such a simple comfort as a shoulder to lean against when she is weary.

It is of course Hippolyta who announces, with a nod of agreement from Diana and Deianeira, that it is bedtime for children. There are sleepy protests from all but Wolf now comfortably asleep in Menalippe’s arms, the young girl’s insisting they can’t sleep until they’ve heard a story and even Giesela pleads with Evandre beside her, “Please. We do it every night.”

It seems it was Deianeira’s turn to be bard for the evening but she looks to the Queen instead, “Oh I think Hippolyta should have the honour tonight.”

Arno perks up in Hippolyta’s lap, twisting his body to look up at her as she mutters a ‘no’ and tries to wave off the invitation. Antiope remembers well that even her strict sister would always eventually give in to requests from both her girls for ‘just another’ bedtime story and it seems as though it will be no different for her grandchildren.

And so Hippolyta in the end tells a pretty innocuous story of Artemis, Goddess of the hunt and protector of little children to which they all listen, not just the young ones. Hippolyta had always been far better with words than Antiope. Among those few happy memories Antiope has of their time before Themyscira are the many nights lying in some war camp or other between skirmishes with the darkness around her filled by Hippolyta’s voice. Her sister would lie beside her and tell stories of beauty and goodness and liberty that seemed so far from the world they were living in. Words of a hope that made Antiope believe there would be a better tomorrow when they woke.

Diana had already stated she would keep Arno with her tonight. They could easily share a bed for a few more days until something could be made for him and she assured Hippolyta it will still be far more luxurious than the past couple of weeks.

Philippus announces rooms had been made up for the girls but Epione interrupts the General’s plans, “I would like to keep Astrid with me to keep a watch over her, at least for tonight.”

The women around the table defer to Epione’s request without anyone immediately noticing Ilse’s reaction. Throwing quick glances at the adults around her she is not able to understand what’s been decided and her eyes begin to glisten with unshed tears. When she starts to worry at her bottom lip and shuffle nervously as everyone shifts from the table Nushaba crouches beside her and takes both her hands. As Diana retrieves Arno from Hippolyta and says her goodnights before heading to her room Nushaba and Ilse share a quiet discussion.

Timandra stands over her wife and the girl protectively and when Nushaba looks up at her it seems no words are necessary for the Senator to understand what is being asked. “Hippolyta, we can take Ilse with us. We are only a couple of doors from Epione and the girls can see each other first thing in the morning.”

Nushaba wipes her thumb under Ilse’s eyes to clear the tears that have escaped before hefting her up to sit on her hip. She’s a little big to be carried like this, long legs able to wrap all the way around Nushaba’s waist but when her arms loop around the amazon’s neck and she rests her head on Nushaba’s shoulder the girl seems far younger than her years.

The group bids everyone goodnight and heads through the Palace on their way back to the city leaving only the three Royal couples behind with Giesela and Wolf. Larina had left assurances that the old crib both Princesses had used as babies had been moved in to Evandre and Deianeira’s room ready for Wolf and they are the next to call it a night, beckoning Giesela to come with them.

Stalling at the arched trellised passageway that leads from the courtyard back in to the Palace Deianeira catches Antiope’s eye. “I’ll be along in just a moment,” Deianeira says with a kiss leaving Evandre to take the baby and lead Giesela to her room amongst the royal apartments.

Antiope stands and goes to the young amazon, brushing her hand over Menalippe’s shoulder and neck as she passes. The two stand close to each other, Deianeira with her back to the rest of the family still at the table, and the younger woman holds out her palm to offer the knife Antiope had given her before their journey. Antiope takes it back before Hippolyta can see it and slips it into her belt at the small of her back.

The General takes a moment to simply look at the young amazon standing before her before saying, “We are so very proud of you for going.”

Deianeira tries to brush off the praise. “I really didn’t do anything.”

“You were braver than I would have been.”

Antiope would without a moment’s hesitation put herself between any of her sisters and a blade. She would allow the last drop of her blood to fall upon the sand of Themyscira’s shores if it protected even one of them. But she is not so sure she would have the courage to sail beyond those shores again.

Deianeira smiles at her and simply says before leaving, “If it was for Menalippe, you would have been brave.”

The remaining four women stay up late, moving to sit around the fire pit and somehow emptying a number of wine jugs. Rather than stagger down the hill to their own home Hippolyta offers Antiope and Menalippe one of the rooms that had been made up for the girls and they gratefully accept.

The moment Menalippe’s head touches her pillow she is dead to the world. Unfortunately for Antiope her wife when drunk tends to lie on her back and snore like a bear. Giving Mena a nudge that rolls her onto her side temporarily stops the sleep growling and snuffling but then Antiope is distracted from sleep by a sound from outside their room.

Leaving Menalippe in bed Antiope checks the hall outside their door and sees Giesela stepping out of her assigned bedroom. As the girl starts to move down the hallway toward Diana and Evandre’s rooms at the far end of the corridor Antiope gives a quiet cough that causes Giesela to spin around startled searching out the source of the noise. Upon realising she has been discovered the girl freezes.

“You should be in bed.”

“I wanted to check on the babies,” she answers and Antiope can’t help but think Giesela is only a baby herself.

Sighing she takes the girl by the shoulders and firmly turns her around and back into the bedroom.

“They are both fine, and asleep. As you should be. Back to bed.”

The fire in the room is low so Antiope takes some cuts of wood from the basket beside the fireplace as Giesela crawls back under the covers. The General glances over to check the girl is doing as she’s told, glad to see Giesela is not going to fight her on the issue.

With the flames reaching up to consume the new wood Antiope is ready to leave when Giesela asks quietly, “Will you stay? Just a little while.”

“Of course.”

Antiope walks over to the bed and sits just on the edge. When Giesela shuffles over to make more room, pulling the bedding with her, she inadvertently reveals a small knife that had been tucked under her pillow.

“You won’t need that either, child. No one will hurt you here.”

Giesela’s hand closes around the handle of the blade and drags it back under the pillow as though afraid Antiope might take it away from her. Instead Antiope brushes a strand of hair back behind the girl’s ear before she settles her head back down on the pillow.

“I could teach you to use it to protect yourself. To use many other weapons if you’d like. For now you only need to know you will be safe.”

“You can’t know that.”

Antiope thinks of all that Giesela has gone through already in her brief life. Hippolyta had shared enough details for the General to know that nothing has been certain in this child’s life except loss.

“Did Diana tell you of the last men who came to our island?”

Giesela nods into the pillow and her hand pulls the blankets tight up under her chin.

“What did she tell you?”

Watching Giesela think over the details of what she has been told is like watching interlocking gears turning and waiting for a water wheel to rumble to life as the result. Giesela knows the story of amazons fighting on the beach, a simple version all the children were told and one Diana told her alone. A detail Diana told only her is the one Antiope is after she thinks.

“You died.”

It is Antiope’s turn to nod. “And yet here I am. Hades himself could not take me and I promise I will stand between you and anyone who might wish to harm you.”

Being assured that she can fend off Death itself seems enough to allow Giesela to sleep but Antiope sits with her long after her breathing has softened and the tension in her face has vanished. Menalippe finally comes searching for her missing wife and finds Antiope guarding over the sleeping child. She stands behind her wife placed a hand on each arm around her biceps and kisses the top of her head.

“I know how Hippolyta felt, with Evandre. I cannot explain it but I cannot stop feeling it.”

Menalippe has always been her voice of reason, her guiding light through darkness, and that does not change now. “It is not about what we want, Antiope. It is about what she needs.” Her chin rests against Antiope’s hair and Antiope feels Menalippe’s nod towards the sleeping girl as she speaks.

Rising from the bed and turning in Menalippe’s arms Antiope declares, “We are what she needs, Mena. I have never been more sure of anything.”

Antiope isn’t certain if she expected Menalippe to challenge what she has said or not but she wasn’t expecting the kiss her wife gives her.

“Tomorrow.” Antiope drops her forehead against Menalippe’s chest at her whispered response. “We will fix it all tomorrow. For now we go back to bed.”

There are no dreams that night for Hippolyta to be pulled from, it is only the peaceful nothingness of sleep that is broken by the sounds of cicadas chirping outside and the long unheard but familiar cries of a baby.

Hippolyta drags herself out of bed, throwing the covers back over her sleeping wife and then ventures out to the balcony where she finds Deianeira. The young amazon does not notice Hippolyta’s arrival, intent on trying to sooth Wolf’s crying and she startles a little when Hippolyta touches her shoulder. Unfortunately the jolt only makes the baby howl more.

“He won’t stop crying.”

Hippolyta gently lifts the red faced boy from Deianeira’s arms, making hushing noises to comfort both of them. Deianeira collapses exhausted onto the bench against the wall. “He’s never been like this before. I... I can’t seem to do anything to sooth him.”

“Babies cry Deianeira, you did nothing wrong.” The poor girl looks utterly defeated staring back at Hippolyta and the infant.

“I think our little Lykos knows he is home now and can bellow all he wants.” The Queen gives the baby now sniffling in her arms a serious look. “Which is not being nice to your Mama.”

She sits down beside Deianeira, both mother and baby blinking sleepily as they quiet down. With Wolf cradled in her right arm Hippolyta is free to brush away the tears on Deianeira’s dark cheek with her other hand. Then she braces her back against the wall and Deianeira sags against her, her head on the Queen’s shoulder and gazing at the little boy still struggling against sleep. The crying is now only grizzles but his tiny feet kicking the air angrily and his hands grasping at nothing.

The angle is a little uncomfortable but Hippolyta can lift her arm enough to rest a palm to Deianeira’s face then drop a kiss on the top of her head. “I am sorry I couldn’t find the baby when I found you.”

She cannot see the girl’s face but hears her sharp intake of breath and then after a moment feels the weight of Deianeira against her grow heavy as she releases all the tension in her body, letting go of the long held memory.

Epione had wanted to check on the young amazon as soon as she skidded into the room Kheuke had directed her to but the moment she had tried to touch her Deianeira had let out a sound like a wounded animal. Even in her fatigued state Deianeira had tried to move away from the strange touch even though she had nowhere to go while pressed against Hippolyta’s chest. Hippolyta kept her hold tight until the desperation faded and then rocked gently on the bed with Deianeira curled up against her, her head tucked beneath the Queen’s chin.

Whatever soothing nonsense she whispered against the young amazon’s hair finally dragged her to a sleep deep enough that Epione had been able to do a cursory examination and then allowed Hippolyta to carry Deianeira to a clean bed without rousing her.

It was only two hours later, while Hippolyta’s warriors and the freed amazons were making ready to move on from the Villa, that Deianeira woke with hysterical cries for her baby. Before that they had looked for the child amongst their captives and the dead with no success. Hippolyta herself had let out some of her frustrations and anger on the guard found nearest to Deianeira’s room during the fighting but he had no information to give and Antiope had been forced to pull her sister off the man’s beaten body before she had killed him. There was nothing Hippolyta could offer the girl except to say that the new-born had been spirited away.

“Does Evandre know?”

In their last conversation about the events at the Villa, and the first since the night it had happened, Deianeira had told Hippolyta that Evandre knew nothing of the baby.

“She knows,” says a new voice from the doorway of the main chambers. Even half asleep Evandre just can’t help herself from being a little cheeky. Hippolyta looks up to her daughter leaning against the door frame as if it was the only thing still holding her up. Blonde hair which had been braided after the pools already has strands escaping the knots and her eyes are barely open so Hippolyta assumes whatever sleep she managed to get so far has been restless. Deianeira doesn’t lift her head, only snuggles against Hippolyta’s neck more.

Evandre’s night shirt ends just at the top of her thigh and is open exceedingly low across her chest, one Philippus would grumble at the sight of and Hippolyta thinks that soon she will have to warn her daughter that her and Deianeira’s ‘alone time’ will be drastically diminished for the next few years at least. For tonight though they are home and under her protection and Hippolyta can at least give them a little time together. Though it is unlikely they will be doing anything but sleeping until noon.

“Take her to bed Evandre. I will watch the baby until morning.” The pinks in the pre-dawn sky are yet to turn to oranges and yellows so there are still a few more hours until the Palace and the city below begin to wake.

Her daughter pulls Deianeira from the bench and into her arms. Their lips meet, just barely touching, and the worry from Deianeira’s face, the crease of her brows and tightness of her mouth, melts away like mountain snow in the sun.

Before they leave both kiss the now settled baby and he blinks rapidly in confusion as both his mothers walk away. Before Wolf can start fussing again Hippolyta wraps her other arm around him and lifts him closer to her. The warmth of her body and the feel of her skin pressed against his cheek calms him and together they wait to welcome his first dawn on Themyscira.


	2. Something To Hold On To

Waking gasping for air Giesela feels like she’s breaking the surface of a lake after holding her breath too long, chest burning and heart racing. There had been footsteps coming after her, in her dream, boots pounding on the dirt and for a moment she thinks she can still hear them. But it is only the beating of her heart in her ears and with a few deep breaths it fades and there’s just quiet. She is in a guest room in the Palace, on Themyscira, surrounded by warriors, Giesela reminds herself. There is no place safer in the world and the men who would hurt her will not find her here. 

For a few moments she stares at the high ceiling trying to decide if she should try to go back to sleep before she shifts and feels the cooling sweat sticking her night shirt to her chest and arms. She thinks longingly of the warm pools yesterday but for now will have to make do with the stone basin in the corner of the room. Instead of throwing the covers back and standing Giesela practically rolls off the side of the bed to the floor, every one of her muscle protesting at having to actually work after a night in a soft bed. 

The sides of the basin rise up above it transforming stone into a chiselled eagle spreading its wings. It’s like something Giesela would expect as part of a grand Italian fountain not casually adorning a bedroom sink. She pulls the spigot from the eagle’s beak and leaves it to swing from the small link chain as clear water falls into the bowl. With cupped hands she scoops some of the crystal clear water, cold as a forest stream, and her fingers tingle before she splashes it on her face. 

Stoppering the basin Giesela allows it to fill before cutting off the flow of water. She throw her damp night shirt across to the bed after tugging it over her head but it misses, falling to the floor and she’s suddenly caught off guard by the memory of her mother reprimanding her for leaving clothes lying around her bedroom. Moving quickly to pick up the shirt Giesela looks around for some kind of basket for clothes that need laundering but sees nothing so instead folds it neatly and places it on the end of the bed. 

Beside the sink is a small mirror in a wooden frame and Giesela uses it to tidy her hair. Her attempt at redoing the braid that has come loose from sleep is not as neat as Deianeira’s well practiced hands could accomplish it but it will do and when it’s done she remains staring at the girl reflected back at her in the glass. She never did look much like her Mother, everyone always told her how much she took after her Father and Grandfather. When she was little she’d hated that; she wanted to be as beautiful as her mother with her smaller nose, fuller pink lips, softly rounded face. Instead she had a strong angled jawline and a thin mouth too easily taken to be frowning. When her Father and then her Grandfather were gone she clung to the reflection in the mirror that held a little part of them still. After her Mother was gone too there hadn’t been any more mirrors for a long time. 

Back at the first boarding house they had stopped in with the Amazons Giesela had seen herself for the first time in months, standing alone in the bathroom frozen before a mirrored cabinet until Diana had come knocking on the door for her. The reflections she had seen until then in the moving surface of running streams didn’t seem quite as real as that one. Her eyes were sunken, a deep purple in the skin underneath them. Her cheek bones looked higher, sharper. And looking down at herself Giesela could see she was all bones, the caps of her shoulders and collar prominent, each rib showing. 

Diana, Evandre and Deianeira had fed them as well as they could while the group travelled and some of the gauntness had left Giesela, her face seemed fuller already and what had felt like an endless walk across Europe had built up some muscle to hide the jutting bones. Appraising herself fully now Giesela sees she looks leaner, arms and legs bronzed even by the weaker autumn sun instead of sallow from hiding in the deep cover of the forest. And she wonders just how different her reflection will be in another week, or month, or year. Will she even recognize that girl? 

When Evandre had brought Giesela to the room last night they’d found the few clothes that had come with them waiting on the wooden chest beside the bed along with a far larger pile of what Giesela assumed were Evandre and Diana’s old clothing. The worn leather hunting satchel that held Giesela’s only remaining personal items from her old life lay at the end of the bed; Larina had asked to take it to what would be the girl’s room for the night earlier in the day with a promise it would be safe. 

Giesela sifts through the mix of clothing to find something to wear and immediately a few of the tops and skirts which have buckles and straps that she can’t even begin to work out get cast aside along with a couple of dresses she thinks are far too fancy. She settles on a simple top and pair of loose trousers cuffed mid-calf.

There are a couple of the wide metal bracelets that cover from the wrist halfway up the forearm, along with strips of soft fabric to wrap over her hands and up her arm to pad underneath. Then there are a few more of the soft leather variety, Giesela hasn’t seen a woman here yet not wearing one version or the other. She wonders if it is like covering your head for church and a very old memory tugs at her of an elderly lady with white lace over her hair, her grandmother maybe. 

After a couple of attempts she still can’t get the hang of the binding so settles on a pair of the leather cuffs. She also gives up on the sandals from yesterday after she finishes lacing them only for the straps up her legs to simply fall down when she walks. Not wanting to put her old boots back on Giesela decides to simply stay barefoot.

Last night it had taken Giesela quite a bit of persuading, and a touch of whining, to convince Evandre that she could easily retrace their steps back to the courtyard come morning to join everyone for breakfast. The girl is pretty sure she was helped greatly by the distraction of Wolf waking and beginning to fuss and that Deianeira was not with them either; it hadn’t take long for Giesela to learn she could ultimately get her own way around one of the women but when the pair worked together she stood no chance. She steps out of the room full of confidence, passing a couple of the Guards in the corridors and a few other amazons whose role in the Palace she doesn’t know but soon Giesela realises she must have taken a wrong turn somewhere as none of the doors in the hallway she’s in now seem familiar. 

Pushing one door open cautiously Giesela finds a huge room beyond it, like a ballroom from a fairy tale. Three rows of tables run almost the length of the room with a single table across the head of them, all bare but the wood polished and shining with wax. Wall sconces hold unlit torches and a couple of wooden chandeliers hang from the high ceiling that Giesela thinks could hold dozens of candles each when needed. 

After a quick glance over her shoulder to check no one has seen her Giesela slips inside letting the heavy door close behind her and wanders the room. Statues line the walls like sentries, Gods and warriors, all magnificent women. Tapestries hang on the walls showing scenes of hunts and feasts, one might even be a wedding, and there are four large fireplaces. Even empty the room is grand and a little imposing, Giesela can’t imagine how it would be filled with celebrating amazons. 

Leaving before she is caught anywhere she isn’t meant to be Giesela retraces her path back to the corridor where she had taken the wrong turn and soon enough finds herself at an open doorway where she sees the green tunnel of creeping vines wrapped over cane arches, the flowers open in the morning sunlight and their scent strong. If Giesela wasn’t already convinced she’d found the right place the familiar voices beyond and the unmistakable piercing giggle of an overly excited Arno would be final proof. 

Even before she had to rely only on herself to survive Giesela knew the value of eavesdropping on adults. Her father would certainly have punished her if she was ever caught doing so but she learnt all kinds of things from holding back at the top of the stairs after being told to go to her room. Pressing her back to one side of the arch Giesela listens to the conversations flowing between the women outside and thinks she can identify most of them even though they are not speaking German. Queen Hippolyta is sparse with her words but playful in this company so Giesela assumes it is close family with her. Philippus and Antiope’s voices she can hear clamouring over each other, a disagreement maybe but they don’t sound angry at all. And Menalippe’s words, as soft as by the pools, don’t seem to be engaging anyone else in conversation so Giesela reasons she is speaking to Arno or maybe even Wolf. Of course with Arno out there Diana will be too but she doesn’t hear Deianeira or Evandre. 

So Hippolyta, Diana, Philippus, Antiope and Menalippe. Giesela had never imagined she would be sitting down to breakfast with a Queen, a Princess and three Generals. But then she had never wanted to imagine anything more than being sat at her own kitchen table with her Mother, her Father back home with them and her Grandfather well again. 

Giesela creeps slowly through the tunnel of vines, her bare feet sliding soundlessly across the smooth stone but stops again when she hears Astrid’s name being spoken and then Hippolyta saying ‘Epione’ amongst more words the girl doesn’t understand. There is no concern in the Queen’s voice so whatever she’s saying probably is not about Astrid’s sickness. Giesela imagines it is about Epione wanting to give the girl a permanent home, which was clear to see yesterday, and is a little surprised by just how happy the idea makes her. She thinks of the first night she had shared her fire with the two younger children and the following days when the only noises she heard from Astrid were sniffles as she tried to hide her tears. Giesela didn’t have the first idea how to stop them but she has a feeling that Epione would. 

Just before she can step in to view Giesela hears her own name and freezes, cursing under her breath that the women are not speaking a language she knows. 

“What of Giesela?” Philippus’ question isn’t directed at anyone in particular but she eyes Hippolyta carefully.

In just the day they have had their family back, and the surprising new additions, both the women have enjoyed having a baby back in their lives. Hippolyta had passed the baby to her wife not long ago and now Wolf is cradled in Philippus’ arms sucking away at a bottle of warm milk, his hands constantly trying to take it from her hold. But after the boy’s piercing screams waking Philippus this morning followed by a couple more crying fits and a variety of soiled clothing the couple are in agreement that they are past having another baby of their own. They could never regret the choice made the night they took Evandre into their lives, regardless of the sleepless nights and endless changings, but honestly there is a small amount of relief that this time Hippolyta’s instinct was not to take the babies in herself.

But Giesela is not a baby. They have not discussed the girl but Philippus’ questioning gaze gives Hippolyta reassurance that her love would willingly take Giesela in as one of their daughters if that was what her wife wanted. Though there might still be another place for the girl in their family Hippolyta thinks, deflecting Philippus’ question to her sister, “I thought perhaps it might be your turn to be a mother, Antiope.” 

Hippolyta thinks of all the occasions Antiope brought Diana and then Evandre home as girls, grinning and covered in mud from secret adventures only for them. The whispered conversations the girls had with Menalippe while curled up in her lap that they would never share with their mother. Their insistence that their Aunts be the ones to show them how to do something new or the first they proudly showed off to. And even now as grown women the love both her daughters feel for Antiope and Menalippe is unlike any other. 

Then of course there was the utter mischief Antiope could get them in to, the chaotic fun that Evandre and Diana adored but the results of which left their mothers exhausted and exasperated. That Hippolyta would greatly enjoy inflicting back on her sister. 

“I would quite like a niece.” 

“Hippolyta.” Menalippe growls softly, warning off her sister in law. But the fact that neither of them actually protest her words does not go unnoticed.

Wolf tries to grab for his bottle again and Hippolyta watches Philippus scold him gently with a tap to his nose. Instead he chooses a different target and grabs her finger but continues to drink noisily. While listening to the small grunts Wolf makes through his nose when he forgets to pause his sucking to breathe Hippolyta hears the rustle of leaves from the trellis arch behind her. Turning in her chair the woman catches sight of someone watching them from by the doorway under the cover of vines and flowers. She is not expecting to see her youngest daughter or Deianeira awake for some time yet and if it were Larina up from the kitchen she would have simply walked out to the courtyard, as would any of her Guards. 

“Giesela?” she prompts gently. 

The girl shows herself, more timid than she had been yesterday evening but no longer fuelled by the fiery wariness she had been when arriving at the Palace. Menalippe beckons Giesela over while pulling a chair away from the table between her and Philippus. After sidestepping Arno knelt on the floor playing with wooden toys Giesela slumps down into the offered chair. When she glances across the table and notices Diana giving her a sharp look the girl immediately straightens herself up. Satisfied with Giesela’s response Diana turns her attention back to her breakfast plate and Hippolyta smirks; perhaps there were some things she has managed to pass on to her eldest child. 

“Did you sleep well?” Hippolyta asks as she breaks a piece of the bread on her own plate to dip into the honey. Giesela nods her head briskly as she rises from her seat a little to reach across the table for the platter of pastries. 

Menalippe and Philippus catch each other’s eye and bite their lips trying not to show their amusement. Hippolyta just shakes her head, resigned to getting no more in response from Giesela for now. They all recall Evandre’s dislike for morning small talk at the same age and Diana’s loathing for getting out of bed at all. 

Giesela demolishes the pastry with as much enthusiasm as Arno had when Hippolyta fed smaller pieces of one to him earlier. While she knows their island is truly a gift of paradise it hurts to see these children find wonder in simple things even Man’s world should have given them; full bellies, clean clothes, a bed and a home. 

When the girl reaches for another Menalippe moves the platter out of her reach and with perfect timing Antiope nudges a bowl of apricots into its place for Giesela to take one instead. For a moment it looks like Giesela might provide the women with their first battle of wills but in the end she takes the fruit, making a point to slump back down into her chair and stare at the sweet treats for the entire time it takes to eat it.

For the rest of the morning meal Giesela keeps an eye on the remaining golden pastries with the sweet orange filling but doesn’t take another. Instead she has some of the bread, olives and cheese as the plates in front of everyone slowly empty and little remains on the platters at the centre of the table. Antiope earns a huge grin when Giesela is finally handed the second pastry she’d been coveting. 

They’re all listening to Philippus tease Hippolyta about having to attend a full schedule of Senate sessions today while the General will get to stay home playing with the baby until Evandre and Deianeira surface from their bed when Menalippe leans close to Giesela.

“Come talk with us a moment.”

Menalippe is rising from her chair with Antiope already standing beside them. Giesela glances to Diana and the amazon gives her an encouraging nod so she moves with the pair across the courtyard to where Nushaba sat with Ilse last night putting flowers in her hair. Her nervousness must show because when Menalippe sits first and taps the space beside her she assures Giesela, “It’s nothing bad.” 

Antiope remains standing over them and if Giesela didn’t know better she would think the General was nervous. “Menalippe and I spoke last night. And this morning.” Pausing she shares a look with Menalippe as if to check her words before she goes on. “And we would very much like for you to come live with us.”

When Giesela just stares between them Menalippe adds, “If you want to.”

Giesela doesn’t know how she should feel about the offer. She wants her own home, her own mother, has every day since she ran. Back in the forest she had thought she’d made her peace with the fact that she couldn’t return home, telling herself that even if she did no one would be waiting for her. But perhaps that is not the same as finding and accepting a new home and family. On the journey to Themyscira the boys had so easily found their own new family; Wolf would know nothing but Deianeira and Evandre as his parents and Arno had claimed Diana the moment he’d met her. Yesterday Giesela had watched Astrid and Ilse fall hard for the same promises of safety and affection, lives where they wouldn’t be cold or hungry or alone anymore. 

Maybe Giesela had allowed herself to give in to brief flickers of the possibility of a new life. When she leaned against Evandre in the warmth of the tent as they listened to a story before bed, when she allowed Deianeira to brush her hair or showed off her rabbit snares to Diana hoping to make her proud. Maybe for those moments she had hoped they might want her too. But watching the little kids Giesela couldn’t help but wonder who would want her? She didn’t need protecting like they did, and she wasn’t sweet or amusing. She pushed people away, wanted to do things on her own terms and most of the time she struggled with simply being civil. On a couple of occasions Deianeira had pulled her up on it, having a few quiet words with her away from the others and Giesela really had tried to do better. But she wasn’t perfect. Surely Menalippe and Antiope would want perfect.

“Really?” she whispers, not daring to look up at either of the women. 

“Really,” Menalippe assures her, laying a hand on Giesela’s leg.

Giesela bolts from the bench startling both women, Menalippe concerned that her touch had unintentionally caused the girl harm. Giesela barely notices their reactions as she says, “Yes, yes I want to.” Quickly agreeing before the opportunity is snatched away. “Where do you live? Do we have to go there now? Can I still see the girls?”

“Slow down.” Menalippe stops her questions, smiling up at Antiope with relief. “Our home is only a walk from the Palace. We can go see the girls and then show you some of the Capitol before we take you there.”

Eager now for the day ahead Giesela turns to head back to the table but Antiope stops her in her tracks, her arm held out before the girl at chest height. “But first, shoes.” 

Antiope’s arm drops and Giesela glances down at her bare feet. She had completely forgotten about her struggles this morning and mumbles back, “I left them in my room.”

Menalippe nudges Antiope in the small of her back, sending her wife toward the table and tells Giesela, “I’ll come with you.” Back at the table Menalippe suggests that she go with Giesela to her room and then they will meet Antiope, Diana and Arno at the main gate.

Diana gets up from the table calling to Arno who gathers his toys from the floor. After a couple of attempts leaning over and scooping up all the building blocks and animals the boy seems to work out that he can’t hold everything in his arms and ends up leaving behind the blocks. Winding his way around Menalippe and Giesela who stand in his path Arno takes his wooden menagerie to Hippolyta.

Arno stands before the Queen who asks, “Would you like me to look after them?” He gives her an affirmative ‘augh’ and drops the toys at her feet before picking them up one and two at a time and placing them on Hippolyta’s lap. With that task taken care of goes to take Diana’s extended hand.

Back in Giesela’s room the girl is relieved that she pulled the covers back over the bed and folded the clothes she’d slept in. She picks up the abandoned sandals from the floor but then stalls, holding them in her hands at a loss for what to do. She watches Menalippe’s eyes fall to her wrists and the choice of leather gauntlet, then up to her waist and shoulders noting the lack of elaborate strapping on her clothing and finally over to the items Giesela had discarded on the bed. She recalls Menalippe watching over them all yesterday in the pools and is sure the woman must have seen Deianeira discreetly helping Giesela with her sandals’ straps after dressing. 

Menalippe holds out a hand and Giesela passes over the shoes. The woman nods towards a stool beside the fireplace and Giesela sits before Menalippe kneels in front of her. “Let me show you.”

She wraps the laces up Giesela’s calf then knots it in a way that doesn’t feel so tight as to be uncomfortable but when Giesela stands they remain secure. The whole thing makes Giesela feel like a small child, that same warm glow in her chest she feels when Deianeira strokes her hand through her hair before braiding it.

“You will get the hang of it.”

They meet the others at the gates and the small group walk down the hill to the city square. As the streets get busier the further into the centre of Capitol they go Menalippe’s hand runs down the length of Giesela’s braided hair and settles at the back of her neck. Every now and then Menalippe’s fingertips press against Giesela with a little extra pressure to indicate when she is to turn down an alley or needs to sidestep a cart that has appeared while her attention was elsewhere.

They are down an alley with only the outer walls of two buildings either side of them when Giesela hears Astrid and Ilse, the sounds of them playing and laughing falling from above. Looking up to the top of the two storeys stone house Giesela sees vines tumbling down over the walls from a rooftop garden. Coming around the side of the building she sees Antiope is already at the top of the small flight of steps and knocking on the blue door. Moments later Timandra greets them telling Giesela, “The girls have been asking after you. Ilse is very excited to show you her room.”

The women allow Giesela in through the door first and she’s barely over the threshold before small feet thunder down the wooden staircase and then Ilse launches herself at Giesela with Astrid not far behind. There’s a chorus of ‘I missed you’ from the girls and then they do the same with Diana and Arno, though Timandra takes a handful of the back of Ilse’s dress to stop the seven year old from throwing herself at the Amazon holding the little boy as she had with Giesela. At Timandra’s prompting Ilse leads Giesela to the room she’d been given while the women make their way up to the garden with Arno. 

The bedroom has pale blue walls, a small balcony looking out onto the main street, a simple table and chair in one corner and a high bed Ilse happily boasts she gets all to herself. Both of the little girls jump up onto it, Ilse bouncing a couple of times before going limp and falling onto her back splayed across the mattress. “It’s so big when you or Astrid stay we won’t have to fight for room at all.”

“Oh good. No more elbows in my face.” 

Giesela snatches up a pillow from under the untamed fan of red hair and then gently bats at Ilse with it. Astrid giggles before coming to her best friend’s defence by throwing herself into Giesela’s chest as she stands beside the bed. Defeated Giesela drops the pillow and grabs Astrid into her arms. 

Softly the younger girl asks, “Will you come see my room too?”

They all turn when Epione responds from the doorway, “Perhaps later little one.” The moment Astrid hears Epione’s voice her face lights up and she nods at the promise. It’s so very different from yesterday afternoon when Astrid had hid from the woman behind Giesela. “Come, there are drinks for you in the garden.”

Ilse races up the stairs while Giesela carries Astrid after she has squirmed onto the older girl’s back. On the next floor Giesela heads up a second set of stairs which lead straight out to the roof. A wooden hatch is hinged on one side of the opening, raised and secured against a bannister. As she steps up onto the roof Giesela sees the bannister is part of a larger wooden structure with a canvas canopy covering one end of the garden. A couple of the adults sit in the shaded area while the others are lounging in the late morning sun. Timandra kneels beside Arno showing him the dozen orange fish whizzing about in a small raised pond. He looks back at everyone shrieking in delight as Ilse goes to stand behind him, carefully helping him to dip his fingers in the water.

Giesela lets Astrid slide from her back beside Diana and the five year old immediately clambers onto the woman’s lap as Giesela goes to sit beside Menalippe. The woman passes her a cup which Giesela sniffs at suspiciously. Once it passes that test she takes a sip and holds the cool liquid in her mouth for a moment. It’s the sweetest fruit juice she’s ever tasted and right after swallowing her mouth waters for another taste. 

There are more flowers up here than seemed to be in the whole of the garden they saw yesterday at the Palace and in colours Giesela has never even seen before. More gardens are spread in a patchwork over the roofs of the adjacent buildings, stretching across the city; touches of green grass and small white wooden pavilions, potted lemon trees, lines of washing waving in the breeze, all colours of flowers springing up from terracotta pots. It’s like a whole separate world exists just up here and Giesela could go hopping from rooftop to rooftop. 

The women and children enjoy the relative quiet of the garden for a while before leaving its sanctuary for the bustle of the main square and the thriving market. Diana has already scooped Arno up into her arms and Epione keeps a hand on Astrid’s shoulder as she presses against the healer’s leg. Menalippe seems to be allowing Giesela free rein now that they are not navigating the maze of streets but Nushaba takes Ilse’s hand in hers and keeps a very tight grip. Giesela has no doubt the girl will find a way to squirm out of it if given half a chance, she herself has never managed to keep hold of Ilse for long. Only Deianeira seems to have the trick mastered and Giesela wonders if she will share her secret with Timandra or Nushaba. 

At every stall they pass or stop at the little kids draw the interest of the amazons. Ilse is in her element talking to every woman she meets and each one seems happy to answer all the questions she throws at them about weaving baskets, forging swords, what gem stones are in the jewellery, and how they colour the fabrics. 

Giesela is amazed Arno doesn’t start to sniffle with so many people around him. Somewhere in Poland they had tried to go through a marketplace to get some supplies and he had had tearfully clung to Diana’s neck the entire time. But here he is jabbering nonsense at the women who stop to speak with Diana while they stroke his messy hair and let him grasp at necklaces or their braids. He seems perfectly calm on Diana’s hip, though he does whine a little in protest when she won’t set him down to wander.

Even Astrid drags Epione eagerly over to a stall to marvel at some colourful pyramids of spices and quietly says hello to the amazon standing over it.

Giesela knows logically there’s no reason for her to be anxious but with so many voices around her she doesn’t understand she feels unable to determine for herself how safe she is. The amazons all switch to perfect though oddly accented German once they hear the girls speak but the everyday conversations all around them are incomprehensible and the signs over shop doorways or on stall fronts make no sense. It all keeps Giesela a little on edge but Antiope had promised to keep her safe so instinctually she stays glued to the General’s side and whenever Antiope’s attention is elsewhere Menalippe shifts closer as if taking over her protection.

With Arno so well behaved Diana has the luxury of being able to study the other children exploring another part of their new home. In a complete change from their behaviour travelling across Europe Giesela seems to be more nervous with the surroundings than the other girls. But she is certainly at ease with Menalippe and Antiope and Diana notes the smile playing on the girl’s lips every time Antiope proudly introduces Giesela to another woman she knows. Antiope may stop short of saying ‘our daughter’ but it is obvious there is already a deep connection between them.

When Arno next begins to fidget in Diana’s arms the midday crowds have cleared so she finally sets him down. She had been sure to check if Arno needed changing before they left the townhouse but now he dances on the spot and Diana realises she will need to take him somewhere to take care of business. Marpesia’s is nearby so she snatches up Arno telling him to say goodbye and he waves at everyone while squirming against her as she heads across the market. 

Diana gives a rather rushed explanation when they arrive but the older amazon waves them through her kitchen to the back rooms. With no accidents Arno is immensely pleased with himself, grinning as Diana holds his hands under running water and then he rushes through the door back into the room they had passed that was full of very exciting things he hadn’t been able to stop and look at. When Diana catches up with him Arno already has his hands reaching above his head for the table Marpesia stands at, grunting and pushing up on his toes to try to see what’s on the work surface. The cook is rolling dough out into an almost paper thin sheet and Diana lifts the boy up to see her work.

“Help?” Arno’s asks tilting his head back to look up at Diana with wide blue eyes waiting for her answer, utterly oblivious to her shock at the first coherent word she’s heard from him. Diana doesn’t even mange to answer before Marpesia drags a stool over to them and then breaks off a small lump of sticky dough and drops it to the edge of the table, a cloud of fine flour puffing up as it hits.

“Of course you can help,” Marpesia tells him.

Once lifted to stand on the stool Diana holds Arno’s hips and he mashes his hands in little fists into the dough, giggling away. When her sheet of dough is ready Marpesia leans across to help the boy to flatten his piece out with his fingers. The end result is not quite as pristine as the large even sheet the cook has in front of her. Marpesia runs a sharp knife through hers to make smaller sheets about the same size as Arno’s and then spoons the sweet smelling mix of minced meat and dried fruits into the centre of each. Over Arno’s dough Marpesia holds out the spoon and the boy pulls the tacky substance off with his fingers. Finally she shows him how to wrap the parcels up, pinching the edges of the dough together to keep them closed.

Marpesia starts placing the pastries in rows on a long handled wooden board and tells them, “Have a seat outside until they’re done Diana. Let the boy see what he made.” Then she swings the wooden board into the clay oven at the back of the kitchen and with a flick of her wrist the parcels are dropped to the hot surface to bake.

Diana sits on one of the benches outside with Arno stood on it beside her so they are face to face. 

“So we’re talking now are we?”

“Ugh?” The confused little expression at her question causes Diana to narrow her eyes at him suspiciously, her mouth screwing up to one side. 

“Oh you are heading for trouble with your Grandmother,” she warns, ticking his ribs and making him wriggle and laugh shrilly. 

“Someone’s enjoying themselves.”

Diana turns her head to see Venelia walking over to them. She’s not in her Guard uniform so Diana takes just a moment to admire the sight of the hard muscles of her stomach and legs that are usually covered by armour before answering, “Arno has been cooking with Marpesia. We’re waiting for the results.” 

Guiding Arno a couple of wobbly steps closer to her Diana allows enough room for Venelia to sit at the opposite end of the bench with the boy between them. The blonde amazon straddles the seat then gently grasps Arno and tugs him back toward her, resting her chin on his shoulder and nuzzling into his neck. He’s utterly delighted with Venelia’s attention as he tumbles back into her arms. “Have you been busy in the kitchen little man?”

Arno sinks down to his backside between Venelia’s legs clapping his hands together. Absently Venelia takes his little hands in her own and plays along with his movements while she speaks with Diana.

“We still need to talk.”

“Now isn’t the…”

“Diana.” Venelia cuts her off quickly, “There is never going to be a right time so we are going to start now.”

Of course Venelia is right, Diana had put off the conversation long enough. There was always training or royal duties, arrangements with friends to rush off to or running late for dinner with her mother. And then had come the journey to Man’s world.

“I was your first kiss.” Venelia’s statement is out of the blue but tugs at Diana’s heart, no doubt just as she intended. Diana’s eyes had been closed when she felt Venelia’s fingertip brushing the top of her ear, pushing back her hair. Her lips touching first against Diana’s jaw then across her cheek until reaching her lips. When Venelia’s tongue sought entry Diana’s mouth opened in a gasp where she’d been holding her breath in anticipation.

“You were a lot of my firsts.” 

Venelia looks immeasurably pleased with herself at Diana’s words, a wolfish leer curling her lip before her face softens; those memories tender as well as passionate. 

The reminiscing comes to an abrupt end when Arno brings his palms together loudly and Venelia’s hands with him. It’s followed by Arno’s elated laughter at the noise he can make. Diana reaches forward to lay a hand against the boy’s chest to calm him and he settles quickly but it feels like the spell hanging over the moment has been broken.

“That does not mean we are good together. Or for each other.”

“I’m serious Diana. Just give me the chance to prove I can commit to you, to us.” Then as though realising the vast change of circumstances since they last left this conversation Venelia wraps her arms around Arno’s waist. He snuggles in and she props her chin on top of his head. “To this.”

They always seem to find themselves pulled back to each other, a familiar exhilarating dance both women know the steps to, destined to part when the music fades. When Venelia begun her advances a few months ago Diana realised she simply didn’t have to strength to go through it again, the dance would always draw her in but this time she knew it would hurt too much when it came to an end. Telling Venelia that they couldn’t do this anymore had been one of the hardest things Diana had faced in her time back on Themyscira, since Steve, and Venelia’s assurances that what she wanted this time was different hadn’t seemed enough. 

But of course Diana had noticed the dramatic change in the Guard’s behaviour after their moonlight talk on the beach. Along with taking her duties more seriously and seeking out additional responsibilities the nights out until early dawn had stopped and Venelia finally seemed to be wanting more from her life than the immediate delightful gratification of her desires.

Diana is still reaching out to Arno’s chest and she lowers her hand a little, laying her palm over Venelia’s locked fingers. 

“Dinner, tonight. With Philippus and my mother.” Diana places the invitation before Venelia like announcing a trial of the Gods. Venelia had always preferred to keep their relationship very far from the Palace, her Queen and her commanding General. Of course, so had Diana.

But Venelia looks Diana dead in the eye and with utter sincerity answers, “I’d love that.” Then over the top of the little boy’s head she leans across to press a quick kiss to Diana’s lips. 

A small cough breaks them apart as Marpesia arrives with a plate of pastries. The cook eyes Venelia and welcomes her coolly, “Lieutenant.” Obviously Marpesia still holds a grudge from the Guard’s drunken antics many years ago outside her kitchen. 

Giving Marpesia her most cowed expression Venelia greets the other amazon but the older woman remains reserved. Noting Arno still wrapped in the younger woman’s arms though seems to soften the cook’s judgement. “You can have one,” she relents.

Leaving the plate and heading back to work Marpesia calls back over her shoulder, “Only one.”

Diana picks up a lumpy shaped pastry with uneven browning across its surface which is quite obviously the one Arno made. She holds it close to Venelia’s lips which pull tight just like Arno or Astrid when they don’t want to eat. Diana continues to press forward supressing a laugh and Arno tilts his head back to watch the battle of wills with great interest. 

As Venelia opens her mouth to protest that she’ll take one of the other pastries Diana forces her to accept it. “Only one,” she teases as the other woman chews and swallows.

“Not bad.”

 

At the Palace Evandre navigates the corridors of people halfway through their day having only just crawled from her bed. Heading for the most likely place she can think to find her parents if they are still at home she reaches the balcony where her Papa is sat with the baby. Philippus has the woven iron table in front of her covered with messy piles of parchment. Wolf’s basinet sits on the chair beside her, with its slightly rounded base Philippus can reach over to rock the basket gently as she shuffles through the papers. 

Philippus doesn’t look up or show any indication in her body that she has heard Evandre’s arrival but as Evandre nears she greets her daughter with a deadpanned ‘morning’. Evandre can hear the smile in her Papa’s voice even though she can’t see it yet; it’s already past midday and the longest Evandre has slept in possibly months. 

Evandre comes up behind Philippus and kisses her cheek before taking an empty chair at the table. “Morning Papa.” A faint gurgle rises from the basket but Wolf doesn’t seem to be ready to wake from his nap yet. 

Still scratching at the parchment with the cane pen, the dark ink drying almost the instant it touches the paper, Philippus asks, “Where’s Deianeira?”

Evandre spins the stack nearest to her to read what’s written on it, some rota for duties and under that building plans and maps of various parts of the Palace and places around the Capitol with notations. Absently she replies, “She went to see Celaeno at the stables.”

“Have you eaten?”

Like a frustrated child Evandre huffs out, “Yes, Papa.”

Philippus laughs under her breath then slaps Evandre’s hand away from her papers. “Your mother is in the Senate today. She said to let you know when you surfaced so you could join her.”

“Ugh.” Evandre really doesn’t feel like getting back to city planning, land disputes, crop rotations, market schedules and the billion other things the Senate and Councils deal with quite yet. 

Still not looking up from the papers Philippus continues, “Of course if I did not see you before you went to the practice fields to find Otrera then I can’t possibly have passed on the message.” 

Marvelling at just how sneaky her Papa can be Evandre scrambles from her seat, kisses Philippus again in a rush and then slows down to lean carefully over the sleeping baby and kiss him too. “Be good for Grandpa.” 

Evandre throws her mother a devilish grin as Philippus shakes her head. Apparently being a grandparent is still taking some getting used to. “Go. I expect you and Deianeira back for dinner.”

At the royal stables Evandre expects her horse Leto to be enthusiastic to see her back but the mare snorts and stamps her front hoof as the amazon tries to saddle up and swings her head from Evandre’s hands when she attempts to stroke the horse’s nose. Leto is won over only when one of the attendants slips Evandre a glossy red apple which she eagerly accepts. When the horse discovers Evandre’s hand empty after that her slobbering mouth nuzzles at the woman’s shoulder, hot breath against her neck and lips working at loose strands of her hair. 

Evandre rides to the practice fields and after unstrapping her bow from the saddle she leaves Leto in the small paddock with the other horses where the animal seems far less bothered now about her abandonment. There are more than a dozen separate groups across the training grounds practicing different disciplines but most seem to be on a break when Evandre arrives and she finds Otrera and Trigona sprawled under the trees at the top end of the archery range by the target shields. 

“Welcome home Little Princess.” Trigona is on her feet and pulling Evandre into a crushing hug before she’s even finished speaking. It’s the kind of welcome Evandre would expect if they had not seen each other for years but Evandre has only been away from Themyscira for a few weeks which is a similar length of time between her usual visits between her home in Abila and the Capitol.

In contrast Otrera stays lounging on the grass watching them. Once Trigona puts Evandre down the other blonde tilts her head to indicate the spot on the ground beside her and Evandre sits, leaning back against the trunk of the tree with her bow resting across her knees. 

“So,” Otrera drags out. Then she pauses long enough to leave Evandre in suspense. “A boy?”

For a moment Evandre worries Otrera disapproves of her and Deianeira’s decision but as usual Otrera cannot hold her serious expression for long and ends up snorting out, “Really? You’re a mother now?” 

Evandre slaps her friend’s arm almost reflexively but then takes a shaky breath as Otrera’s words sink in. Strange that it’s only now the enormity of the change to her life is finally hitting her. She’s a mother. Stupidly it’s all she can think to say too, “I’m a mother.”

Otrera raises an eyebrow at her, “Is that a question?” She laughs a little at the dumbstruck expression on Evandre’s face. “If you haven’t realised that yet perhaps we need to have words with Deianeira about your parenting abilities.”

Of course Trigona steps in to protect Evandre from Otrera’s teasing, lowering herself down to Evandre’s other side. “You will be a fine parent. Just don’t ever ask Otrera to babysit and you can’t go wrong.”

Mock offended Otrera holds a hand to her chest. “I am an excellent babysitter.”

Shaken from her moment of panic Evandre gives Otrera a withering look. “When I was ten I was alone with you for less than an hour and you almost shot an arrow through my forearm.”

“Almost,” Otrera points out as if that makes all the difference.

Evandre laughs as Otrera pushes the bow over to Trigona’s lap and then settles her head on Evandre’s thigh, finally managing to get out, “Trigona had to try to stitch it up before Antiope found out and put an arrow through you.”

The three of them sit quietly for a moment until Otrera shifts her head to gaze up at Evandre and ask innocently, “So you’re saying I should save the weaponry for when he’s a little older?” 

Before Evandre can get pulled into a ridiculous debate on what weapons Otrera can or can’t teach her infant son to use Artemis calls out for everyone to get back to work, her voice booming across the grounds. The three archers move to the head of the range and the competition to outdo each other begins. Evandre’s shoulder is stiff at the start from so little practice but it soon loosens up and she begins to annihilate Trigona’s scores. For a while Otrera smugly stays ahead of them both on points but when the younger woman does draw closer Otrera begins to concentrate her efforts toward distracting Evandre instead of on her aim.

“Otrera. Mind your own target.”

Antiope’s sudden reprimand causes Otrera to startle like a spooked horse, though in fairness so do Evandre and Trigona. With her usual stealth Antiope had arrived without warning, Menalippe and Giesela a short distance away, before sternly scolding her archer. Evandre can’t help but stick her tongue out at her friend as Otrera sheepishly moves back to her proper position.

After the market place Antiope and Menalippe had walked Giesela almost the length of the city. She saw the spectacle of the library, the armoury tower and the Senate building and her guardians promised there would be plenty of days ahead to go in and explore each of them. They strolled across the bridges spanning the Capitol waterfalls, past little groupings of single story houses and from the hill Menalippe pointed toward orchards and beaches and the roads to the other towns and villages stretching all across the island. Finally they had come to the training grounds for Antiope to get reports of the day’s activities from Penthesilea and Artemis. 

After meeting so many new people Giesela is a little relieved to see a familiar face when Evandre greets her at the archery range. But her relief lasts only until Evandre pulls her close, wraps her in a tight hug and kisses the top of her head and with all the soldiers around Giesela’s face burns red as she helplessly bats at Evandre’s stomach. When she’s finally free the girl scowls at Evandre. “That’s not funny.”

Helpfully Otrera offers to tell Giesela some truly insightful stories from when Evandre was her age and the embarrassment is quickly forgotten. It’s amusing to see Evandre quickly slap a hand over Otrera’s mouth only for Trigona to offer a few stories of her own leaving Evandre to mutter about being betrayed.

Before the archers can cause too much chaos Menalippe draws Giesela away to their next stop. A hugely muscled warrior who Antiope introduces as Artemis takes position on a small raised platform before a bunch of other amazons take turns trying to unseat her. Giesela watches amazed as Artemis beats each one of them back easily. 

Then there are groups of women wrestling, clashing sword fights, arrows flying and amazons racing around the sand tracks through the green grass. But the activity that truly catches Giesela’s interest is the knife throwing at a smaller target range. While Antiope is explaining some of the tricks of the horse riders in the long field past Artemis’ podium, the girl’s attention keeps drifting to the blades hurtling through the air. 

The attraction does not go unnoticed by Menalippe. “You can have a go if you would like.” 

Even though she is buzzing with eagerness Giesela patiently allows Menalippe to fix her grip on the hilt of one of the knives before Penthesilea demonstrates the best stance to start with and when she should let go during her arm’s forward motion for her throw to hit the target. 

Her first knife falls short but Penthesilea assures her that happens when you’re unfamiliar with the weight of a weapon. Her next five throws all hit the board in scoring range. Though Antiope won’t let her stay to throw more she does tell the girl, “We’ll soon have you beating Egeria.” Giesela doesn’t even know how good Egeria is but a flare of pride rises in her chest regardless.

Just when Giesela is beginning to flag from the day’s exertions, thinking she would much rather curl up under a tree in the afternoon sun than walk anymore, Menalippe and Antiope announce it is time they were taking her home. It’s a short walk back toward the centre of the city but instead of wandering into the maze of paved streets they navigated to get to Nushaba and Timandra’s tall townhouse they walk by the houses set out near the city’s walls before stopping at the gate of one. The small garden in front is more practical than decorative, walking up the short path to the house Giesela notes the vegetable patch in neat little rows, high canes with beans climbing up them, a couple of fruit trees and bushes. The house itself is constructed of similar blocks of stone as the town houses but these are less polished and smooth, more naturally weathered and crowned with a gently sloping roof of curved terracotta tiles. The wooden shutters on the windows are open and the curtains flutter through them in the breeze.

“Welcome home,” Menalippe says as she unlatches the front door. It opens into a large room with a number of internal doors leading off of it. The kitchen area is toward the back with a clay oven, a small fire pit with a pot hanging over it, a few cupboards and a wash basin. There is a simple fireplace with a few wooden figures sitting on the mantle, far more detailed than those Arno played with this morning. The dining table isn’t overly large but certainly bigger than only two people would need so Giesela assumes Antiope and Menalippe must have guests frequently or more uses for it than just eating meals. By far the most space is dedicated to an impressive weapons rack near the fireplace. 

Antiope points out the door which leads to their own bedroom, the one to the washroom, a storeroom, a pantry and then they lead her to what will be her room. Giesela pauses at the door with her hand against it, suddenly overwhelmed by the thought that the moment she pushes it open and takes a step inside there will be no going back to her old life. She doesn’t even notice the tear sliding down her cheek until Antiope reaches out and brushes it away with the back of her finger.

“You don’t have to do anything unless you are ready,” Menalippe assures her.

Her palm presses against the wood panel and it swings open soundlessly, as it slowly swings back Giesela steps forward before it can close again. It’s a simple room with white washed walls. The floorboards are polished but she can see the scuffs and scratches in the wood from moved furniture and the wear of boots. A chest of draws sits below the room’s large picture window that looks out on a copse of citrus trees. The large bed fills most of the room, piled with furs and blankets and Giesela sits on the end of it brushing her hands over soft grey fur. 

Antiope settles beside her. “Hippolyta will have your things sent down later today. And we can get you anything else you might need.” When Giesela only bites her bottom lip in response Antiope gently taps her nose, just like she’d seen Philippus do this morning with Wolf to get him to stop being a nuisance, and the girl immediately ceases the biting.

“There will be rules,” Antiope continues and Giesela nods solemnly. She didn’t doubt that a General’s house would be strict. 

“You will attend school and have responsibilities in the home just as we do.” It’s not anything unexpected and Giesela isn’t too impressed by the prospect of either but is accepting. “You will begin training.” Now that sounds far more appealing and Giesela’s mood brightens a little. “And you will play.” 

Confused by those last words Giesela looks up from the furs. 

“Childhood is a precious gift Giesela. We know things have happened,” Antiope pauses, the words far too passive to describe what Giesela had been through. Deliberate choices had been made by others that hurt her and gentle words now wouldn’t change that. “Men have done things that have tried to take that away from you. We cannot bring back everything you have lost but you can still be a child.”

Menalippe tells Giesela they will give her a moment alone and she can join them in the main room when she is ready. When she does come out Antiope is sat on a stool by the unlit fire cleaning weapons and Menalippe is at the table sorting vegetables, with a cutting board and knives laid out before her. 

“Come help me prepare dinner.”

 

In the late afternoon Venelia had walked Diana and a now irritable Arno back as far as the Palace gates before leaving Diana to take the boy inside for a nap. Back in the market Diana had spoken with Derinoe about designing a new bed like hers and Evandre’s, Hippolyta already said she would make the room next to Diana’s available for the boy, but for now she had a cot intended for hunting camps beside the bed that Larina had rustled up earlier. 

Most of Arno’s naps while they travelled had been taken in Diana’s arms as they walked or curled up between bodies in the cramped cab of a vehicle. Getting him settled into a bed that Diana wouldn’t join him in had been a bit of a struggle but the walking he had done down to the city while holding her hand, racing around Timandra’s garden and strolling with Venelia along the coast road had worn the boy out enough that there wasn’t too much fight in him. 

Lying down on her own bed Diana props herself up on her side so she and Arno can look at each other, her breathing slowing to match Arno’s rhythm. When his eyes slowly close Diana rolls over onto her back. She should probably read some of the army reports Menalippe left on her desk while they were away but it’s far easier to just close her own eyes too. Taking a nap herself in the middle of the day seems like a luxury, especially as she hasn’t had a moment alone since the night in her old room at Etta’s back in London.

Just as she decides to give in to sleep herself a gentle knock at the door disrupts her plans but Diana doesn’t call out or move to answer it. Instead she keeps her eyes closed and hopes whoever it is will simply give up. After a couple more raps against the wood the knocking stops but the culprit doesn’t go away, instead Diana hears the door pushing open. She’s well aware of who it is now even before Evandre piles on top of her. Diana groans and rolls to her left, throwing her sister to the far side of the bed. 

Still refusing to open her eyes Diana hears Evandre laughing quietly against her ear. “You are a brat.” The admonishment has no effect on Evandre so instead she tries, “You’ll wake Arno.” 

“Please. That boy can sleep through anything. He’s just like Papa.”

That’s true enough, Arno rarely stirs once he’s asleep. Evandre rights herself from Diana’s none too gentle throw then snuggles in against her sister’s side making herself comfortable. “Don’t you have anything else to do?”

“Nope. Deianeira left me a note saying she was back and was taking Wolf out for a walk with Papa. And telling me to stay out of trouble.”

Diana swats at her little sister playfully, “Good work on that.”

Well if Evandre is going to stay Diana reasons she should take the opportunity to fill her in on the events of the morning that she slept through. Diana shares the news of their aunts taking in Giesela and how easily it seems the little ones have settled with Nushaba, Timandra and Epione. 

Evandre shuffles to rest her head against Diana’s shoulder and the older woman is able to lift her arm to play with Evandre’s golden hair. “I guess we just have the boys to look after now,” she says and Diana thinks Evandre sounds a little sad about letting go of the girls, like Philippus’ resignation when Evandre had first moved away from home. 

“I only realised today that I’m a mother now.”

Diana lets out a breathy laugh at the confession. She can’t help it when her sister had quite obviously become a mother the moment Deianeira held Wolf for the first time but Evandre mumbles into her shoulder, “Don’t laugh.”

With both their lives so changed it seems strange to be lying on Diana’s bed sharing secrets in whispered voices like they had when Evandre was a little girl. For a time Evandre had grown too old to need her sister, instead confiding in her friends leaving Diana to fret from a distance. But the journey back to Belgium, to where their relationship had truly began, seems to have brought the sisters closer again. 

Hesitantly Evandre whispers, “Did you ever think that I could have been your child?”

Honestly the thought had never crossed Diana’s mind. From the moment Sameer handed the bundle of blankets over to her Diana had felt a fierce love and protectiveness toward the then unnamed baby but she had never once back then thought of herself raising a child.

Diana rolls onto the side to look at Evandre and the bridge of her nose scrunches up when she tells her, “You needed a mother. And I knew exactly where to find you the best one.”

“I’m glad you’re my big sister. But you are going to be a great mother too.”

They fall into a comfortable silence, Diana watching Evandre blink lazily just like she had as a baby when she was tired. Finally Diana looks down at the blanket and begins pulling at a loose thread trying to decide if she should share something else with her sister. “I asked Venelia to dinner,” she eventually mumbles.

When Diana looks back up Evandre’s grin is wicked and her eyes light up as though this is the most scandalous news she’s ever heard and is delighted by it. Diana knows Evandre is well aware of the many nights Venelia snuck into Diana’s room, always leaving before dawn. 

“You never invite women to dinner.”

“Well… things are different now.”

When Evandre’s attempts to get more details are met with amused resistance she decides to head back to her own room to prepare for the evening, hoping her partner and son have returned. Diana drags herself from the bed and wakes Arno to get them both washed up. Venelia had agreed to come to Diana’s room before they are expected for dinner and she arrives a few minutes into Diana’s attempts to talk Arno into putting on a fresh shirt. 

“You can’t reason with him Diana, he’s three years old.” 

“You’re beginning to sound like my mother.” But she’s not wrong on this so Diana finally forces Arno’s wriggling arms through the sleeves despite his protests and in the resulting sulk he refuses to take Diana’s offered hand. Instead Arno stands at Venelia’s leg and whines insistently, the sound rumbling from the back of his throat, until the other woman picks him up. 

The three of them are not the first to arrive but they do beat Hippolyta to the dining room which means Diana and Venelia can tackle one parent at a time. While growing up Philippus’ presence in Diana’s life had been more of an aunt than a second mother but the older woman is no less protective of Diana’s welfare than she is of Evandre’s. And Philippus is especially wary of any suitors in either of her girls’ lives. Fortunately it seems Venelia’s recent conduct has already won over Philippus as a commander and Arno’s obvious seal of approval works on her far easier than it did on Marpesia. 

“Egeria,” Philippus calls out to the Guard outside the room. When the younger woman stands at attention in the doorway she notices Venelia and gives her friend a quick grin before looking back at the General. “Please send word to the kitchen that we have another guest for dinner.”

Egeria practically skips off down the corridor, no doubt looking forward to sharing this very valuable new piece of gossip with Larina. 

When Hippolyta does arrive it is to everyone already seated around the dining table. Her wife and daughters, Deianeira fussing over Wolf sat in a high chair beside her and Arno on Venelia’s lap. Diana blushes profusely when Hippolyta raises her eyebrows in question. 

Venelia, always full of confidence gives Hippolyta a winning smile. “Good evening my Queen.”

“Venelia, glad to have you join us.” Her mother doesn’t seem at all surprised by Venelia’s appearance at the table or her seat beside Diana. 

After dinner the family move to the couches and Philippus sets a fire. In the corner of her couch Evandre holds Wolf against her and they both sink back into the cushion. Her arms circle under the baby’s bottom keeping Wolf from sliding down as he lays on his belly across Evandre’s chest, arms spread out and clenching a little in his sleep. Arno is far less lethargic and Diana worries she may have let him nap for too long, already dreading trying to get him to sleep through the night. When Arno bores of sitting quietly with Venelia as she talks to Deianeira and getting little attention from either of them he wriggles from her lap. Once his feet hit the floor he pelts across the room to Hippolyta but he doesn’t settle and instead wanders the room from one woman to the next until Philippus retrieves a basket with all of the old wooden figures he has now claimed and the boy happily sits and begins to play with his Grandpa. 

Rain clouds have settled outside and amongst their chatter they can hear the rain pattering against the shutters. The sound would surely have been drowned out in the noisy chaos of the previous evening with so many women and all the children.

Beside Diana, Evandre has fully given in to sleep along with Wolf and unable to resist Diana elbows her sister startling Evandre awake. The jolt rouses the baby and they both blink in confusion, unsure of their surroundings for a moment. While Diana thinks it’s amusing to get a little payback for earlier she’s immediately scolded by their mother, “Diana.”

“Sorry Mother.”

“Time for bed Artist,” Deianeira tells Evandre who still seems bewildered. After Deianeira lifts Wolf up from Evandre’s chest she slaps at Diana’s leg then offers her hand to pull Evandre to her feet. They stop by Hippolyta on the way to the door and she kisses each of them on the cheek. “Behave yourself tonight Lykos,” she tells the baby but his eyes are already closed again and he’s snuffling sleepy breaths.

“Bedtime for you too,” Diana declares to Arno. The boy pulls himself up from the floor but goes to Venelia and climbs onto her lap. When Venelia tries to hold Arno out for Diana to take his fingers dig into her top and telling Arno it is time to go to sleep only fills his eyes with tears. Diana has seen him upset with hot tears of pain and fear once when he fell over running around their campsite but these ones are more of frustration. Despite how tired he is Arno still wants to keep playing.

When Diana gives her a nod Venelia brings Arno back against her stomach, wrapping her arms tight around him. Once he quiets the Guard stands with Diana to take him to bed and while Arno is obviously still not happy he does wave at his grandmothers when Venelia tells him to say goodnight. 

Back in Diana’s room Venelia lays Arno down on his bed for Diana to draw up the covers and tuck them tight around him. In moments though Arno is wriggling free, his feet kicking the blanket off. “No sleep,” he moodily announces trying to get back up. 

After being tucked back in three times Arno sees the futility of his efforts and finally closes his eyes when he’s told. Still Venelia and Diana sit on the bed watching over him, waiting almost breathlessly to be sure the boy has settled. When they do look at each other Diana grins at the victoriously smug look on Venelia’s face at their achievement. 

“Surely getting the child to bed in less than an hour is something worth celebrating.”

It is Venelia who leans in to initiate the kiss, catching the loose dark hair in her hands and pulling Diana to her fiercely. When their lips do come apart the women still lean against each other, foreheads touching. 

“Stay.” Diana isn’t certain if she’s asking or commanding. 

Venelia looks to the little boy now sleeping deeply then turns back and raises a questionable eyebrow at Diana. 

“Not like that. Just…” Diana takes Venelia’s hand, brushing her thumb back and forth. “Stay.”

Venelia presses her lips against Diana’s gently this time and her eyes are still closed when she whispers, “Not tonight.” Reluctantly Venelia releases her hold on Diana’s hair and stands from the bed. “Get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

 

After putting the last of the dishes from the evening meal away Timandra climbs the stairs back to the roof garden. She’d left Nushaba teaching Ilse the Greek names of the plants and flowers but comes back to find lessons over for the evening. Nushaba sits on one of the loungers beside a fire bowl under the canopy, the gentle patter of rain hitting the canvas explaining the cooler evening air. Ilse is settled between Nushaba’s outstretched legs and leaning back against her, a woven blanket spread over them both. With one hand Nushaba holds a book they picked up in the market today, a guide to flora across the island that the little girl had begged for, reading to Ilse by the glow of the fire and lantern light. It is the strangest choice of bedtime stories Timandra could imagine but as Ilse listens to Nushaba translate the text into her own tongue, her green eyes sparkle as though she can see the paths across rocky hillsides that lead to patches of wild lavender.

They had shared their evening meal with Epione and Astrid and then the women had watched the girls play some imaginary game in the garden, wrapped in linen sheets they had snatched when helping to take down the dry laundry from the line. One moment Ilse pronounced them magnificent gowns and the next Astrid would say they were the spread wings of fantastic beasts.

“When will you return to Thessaly?” Epione’s question was one on all of their minds.

“I can stay a few weeks.” Nushaba says. “But if the girls aren’t ready by then Timandra will stay here with Ilse for longer.” 

Timandra and Nushaba had grown used to their separations while she worked in the Senate and Nushaba tended her vines but Timandra knew her wife would be heartbroken to leave them if Ilse also stayed behind in the Capitol. For the immediate future though the needs of the children would come first and until Ilse and Astrid felt happy with being apart for more than a night then Ilse’s home would remain here. 

To break the weight of the silence Timandra attempts to assure her friend and wife, “They are both strong. Look how they have already embraced our life here.” 

In front of them Astrid squeals happily as Ilse engulfs her in the sheet wrapped around her like a cloak and they both tumble to the ground giggling. Nushaba rises in her seat intending to step in and warn Ilse to play more gently but Epione lays a hand on her arm. “Leave them be, Astrid will be fine.” When two small heads finally emerge from the bundle of linen both of them are grinning. “And we don’t have to talk to them about moving yet. Let them be carefree a while longer.”

Now Timandra sits on the end of the lounger, happy to be carefree herself for a while too and simply watch Nushaba and Ilse as they finish a chapter. Her wife and their child. Nushaba’s free hand strokes red curls from the girl’s forehead but they fall back almost immediately only for the woman to push them aside again. The repetitive gesture with Nushaba’s fingertips brushing her forehead, eventually causes Ilse’s eyes to fall closed.

A few buildings down Epione carries an exhausted Astrid from the washroom through to her spare bedroom that is now the child’s. Standing over the basin Astrid could barely stay on her feet so utterly worn out from the day but Epione is sure the girl will soon be able to keep up with the other children. Whether when that time comes Epione will be able to keep up with Astrid is another matter entirely. 

With a little encouragement at the market place Astrid had picked out a selection of new colourful material Epione would make in to curtains and a soft woollen blanket for her bed. When she lays the girl down on the bed and pulls the covers up over her Astrid grasps sleepily for the new blanket and when she finds a corner she rubs it against her cheek. 

Leaning over Epione kisses Astrid’s temple. “Goodnight little one.”

The girl’s reply is barely above a whisper but Epione hears her clearly. “Goodnight Mama.”

Epione had seen Hippolyta grow as she carried Diana but the connection between mother and daughter was more than the physical; Epione had cut the cord herself after Diana’s birth but there was no separating them. The first morning of Evandre’s arrival on the island Epione had been called to the Palace to check the child and instantly she had seen the same love in Hippolyta’s eyes. Her friend had cradled Evandre against her like the baby girl was an extension of her own body just as she had with Diana. That bond with a child who had been a stranger to Hippolyta only one day ago was truly the work of the Fates or a gift of the Gods. Epione had never imagined she would feel the same for a child of her own. But she had felt a tug at her heart the moment she had seen Astrid hiding behind Giesela’s leg, more than just a healer’s protective instinct and it had only grown since. 

Epione stays perched on the edge of the bed longer than she should. The girl would need to learn that she is safe even alone in her bed but the need to simply sit and watch over Astrid is too much to deny tonight. When Astrid rolls over, tucking herself into a ball Epione takes the opportunity to stand without disturbing her sleep. Astrid’s thumb slips into her mouth as Epione blows out the candle beside the bed and leaves the girl to her dreams.

It had been dark outside for quite a while and Giesela had been curled up in a cushioned chair by the fireplace happy to simply watch the flames rolling over the wood. When dinner was finished Giesela had helped clean up as eagerly as she had helped prepare it, following any instructions from Menalippe or Antiope and doing as she was told, eager not to mess things up. While the shelter Evandre, Deianeira and Diana had offered in the past few weeks had allowed her to feel safe again for the first time in far too long there had been an impermanence to it, the threat of loss still hanging over them as they kept moving onwards. Here was bricks and mortar. A roof, a bed. Something she can hold on to, that will hold on to her and not let her go. 

Someone from the Palace had brought down Giesela’s hunting satchel and a trunk with an even larger selection of clothes than had been in her room last night. Antiope moved the trunk into Giesela’s room and then left her alone to unpack. Giesela picked through the clothes and moved anything she thought she would definitely wear into the chest of drawers, sure to keep the rest neatly folded in the trunk. 

Saving the satchel for last the girl sat cross legged on the bed with it nestled in her lap. When the Russian Army came for them Giesela had ran with absolutely nothing only after two days hiding had she gone back to determine what they had left behind. The satchel and knife she had found still in a box in the back of her parent’s wardrobe where her mother had packed up her Grandfather’s things after he died. As she expected the Red army had taken everything of value from the house but she found some canned and packaged food they’d obviously not liked the look of in the back of cupboards, fishing lures but no rods in the shed and a box of wooden matches. On the mantle there had been a photograph in a silver frame of her parents on their wedding day. Of course the frame was gone but Giesela had found the picture on the floor beneath the pieces of smashed glass. 

Giesela laid the few items she had, the only things that were hers, out on the top of the drawers. The photograph, an empty matchbox, a tin of brightly coloured fishing lures and the knife. She shuffled them about a little before settling on their placement then got up to leave the room. Before she reached the door the girl turned back and grabbed the knife, slipping it under the pillow on her bed. That done she returned to the main room to join Menalippe and Antiope who had moved from the table to comfy chairs in front of the fireplace. 

For a while Giesela simply sits and listens to the women talk but eventually her growing unease over what might be ahead in the coming days prompts her to ask about the chores she would be expected to do around the house and then about the schooling they said she would have.

“Mnemosyne taught both Diana and Evandre but it has been a long time since she had a school room with more than one child. I’m sure she will enjoy the challenge.”

When Giesela grins thinking of one woman trying to keep herself, Astrid, Ilse and Arno focused and in one place for more than a few minutes Menalippe is quick to work out exactly what she is thinking and gives her a warning stare. 

“Not too much of a challenge, Giesela.”

Antiope gets an equally hard stare from her wife as she covers a laugh with a fist held to her mouth. 

The flames have almost eaten up the wood now, dark red lines chase across the blocks of orange glowing soft wood leaving them cracked and black. White flakes of ash dance in the heat at the edges of the fire. Giesela rolls her head away from the warmth and watches Antiope finish scratching something in a cloth bound book. The amazon places both it and the cane pen she’d been dipping into an ink pot on the small table beside her then wipes her stained fingers on a piece of cloth. After rolling her neck and shoulders Antiope eases back into her chair again and then begins to remove her metal wrist guards then unwrap the fabric bindings beneath them. Before the woman can put on the supple leather gauntlets in their place Giesela sees the scaring on Antiope’s wrists.

Before she can stop herself Giesela asks, “Is that why you wear them?” She looks to Menalippe in the chair beside her. “Do you all…” but Giesela’s question trails off as she suddenly realises that it might not be something she should ask. 

Antiope pulls the lacing on the leather and fastens the cuff around her wrist. “Most of us have the scars of when we were captive but we do not wear these to hide what happened.” She pauses and her eyes drift to Menalippe. Giesela following her gaze sees Menalippe has an almost sad smile pulling at her lips. “We wear them to remember what we went through. With those memories we honour the women who did not get to start their new life here with us.”

Looking down at her own wrist Giesela wraps her hand tight over the leather. She doesn’t even notice Menalippe rising from her seat and standing before her until the woman gently touches her cheek. “Come. It’s time to sleep.”

I’m not a baby Giesela tells herself yet she allows Menalippe to pull up the cover over her once she’s changed and settled into bed. She does bring herself to say, “I don’t need a story.” But immediately Giesela feels the disappointment settle in the pit of her belly. 

Menalippe nods a little in agreement but says, “I can tell you a little more about the island before you fall asleep.”

Both Menalippe and Antiope sit on her bed, Menalippe by Giesela’ feet with hand resting on the furs over Giesela’s leg and Antiope on the edge by her pillow. Menalippe tells Giesela of the games held every year as part of the annual celebrations of coming to Themyscira. Wrestling and archery, foot races and horse races. Sleepily Giesela mumbles about the Olympics but her eyes are already closing as Antiope tells her to hush and brushes the hair from her face, carefully freeing a strand stuck to Gisela’s bottom lip. It tickles and the girl’s nose scrunches up as she tries to shake away the touch. Then Antiope’s hand reaches under the pillow and Giesela startles a little more awake as the woman draws her grandfather’s knife out from under her head. 

“Shh. It will stay right her.” Antiope says as she places it on the bedside cabinet next to the candle and cup of water. “But not in your bed.”

With her eyelids heavier than she can keep open the last thing Giesela hears is Menalippe, though she sounds far away. “Come and wake us if you need anything."


	3. They Will Fare Well

Great foaming waves crash against white cliff walls below, gulls swoop in the water at the flashes of silver fish churned up and Antiope thinks the view is not all that different from Themyscira’s shores. But the sun beating down on her feels harsher; the salt in the air has a sharper fragrance, its taste staying on her tongue when she breathes in and the blue stretching forever before her can only be the Ionian Sea. And though Antiope knows she is dreaming she stays nonetheless.

Carried on the breeze she hears the faint sounds of women singing and laughing somewhere behind her. Closing her eyes Antiope can almost see the image of them, her sisters, in the first place they called home. The touch of the warm wind on her face feels real and familiar even though she hasn’t felt it for more than a thousand years but when she thinks she is opening her eyes in the dream Antiope finds herself waking instead to Menalippe’s breaths fluttering against her temple.

In their bed Menalippe is lying partly on top of Antiope, one long leg slung over her hip and head pillowed in Antiope’s unbound dark blonde hair. Closing her eyes again the General drowsily ponders what drew her from her dream; Menalippe’s encroachment onto her side of the bed does not usually wake Antiope so she simply hopes whatever disruption to the now seemingly still night that roused her has passed. She is certain Hypnos is calling her back when she hears dulled noises from beyond their bedroom door, unmistakably those of a girl attempting to move through the house unnoticed. Waiting to see if she is needed Antiope listens to the hesitant footsteps in the darkness, the creek of the loose floorboard outside Giesela’s door, a chair being bumped into the table and its clatter as it scrapes across the floor followed by the inevitable hiss of frustration.

When the latch of the bedroom door flicks up it rattles against the wood then the oiled hinges swing open noiselessly. The uneven breathing grows louder as the girl steps inside the room and soft footfalls approach the bed but stop just short of reaching it.

Giesela has come to their room more than a few nights since they had taken her into their home but all those times the girl had been led there by Menalippe’s hand after the couple had been woken by screams and crying. After calming Giesela down from her first nightmare neither of them felt they could leave her to sleep on her own and since that night bringing her to their room after the dreams disrupted all their sleep had become routine. With the passing of two moons living as a family the girl’s nightmares had become less frequent and the waking quieter but Antiope has always heard and always tried to be by Giesela’s side when she woke and feels a painful flash of guilt in her chest that tonight she had not.

Giesela takes a couple more steps closer to the bed but when she remains silent and does not attempt to wake either of the women herself Antiope rolls from her back to her side to face the girl. Antiope has not had her eyes open long enough to fully adjust to the dark but can see Giesela noticeably startle to find her awake.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to...”

The girl takes a few steps back as she speaks but Antiope reaches out to take a firm hold of her wrist while trying to work the dryness out of her mouth to be able to reassure her. Giesela lets out an involuntary squeak at the touch and Antiope softens her grip, letting her thumb stroke the inside of Giesela’s wrist until the tension eases from her. As her body relaxes Giesela takes another step forward to stand close by Antiope at the head of the bed.

“It is fine. We told you, you could always come and wake us if you needed to.”

Giesela gives a quick little nod and a sniffle but before Antiope can say anything else Menalippe, now awake after abruptly losing her pillow when Antiope moved to reach for Giesela, commands grumpily, “Everyone to bed.”

Menalippe takes to being woken before sunrise about as well as a sleeping bear before spring. Antiope pulls the edge of the covers back and gives a tug on the girl’s arm to encourage her to climb in. Typically Giesela would be between her and Menalippe when they bring her to their room; before Antiope even blows out the flame of the bedside lantern the girl would be gripping Menalippe’s clothing with her face buried into a shared pillow. For tonight the women shuffle across the bed to make space on the edge. Climbing in beside Antiope, Giesela tucks her arms up against her chest and curls up tight against her.

In Antiope’s arms Giesela seems so much younger than her thirteen years, fragile and helpless. With all the stubbornness Antiope now expects from the girl Giesela does not allow herself to cry, though every muscle in her body is rigid with tension. As delicately as holding a finely spun bird’s nest in her hand Antiope cradles Giesela’s head and low against her ear says, “Sleep now. You’re safe.” While muttering the same affirmations over and over Antiope feels Menalippe settle down against her back.

Once Giesela is slack and heavy in her arms and Antiope is sure a whispered conversation will not wake her, she addresses her wife, “This can’t continue Mena.”

Menalippe shifts closer pressing a soft kiss to Antiope’s neck. The other woman’s lips stay against her skin as she replies, “The dreams have gotten better, waking her less. In time…”

Menalippe’s words trail off before Antiope can interrupt but the General argues on regardless, “We both know nightmares do not simply disappear with time. She needs to talk about them.”

They have tried coaxing Giesela out of her silence a few times now sat together around the fireplace while she is safe in Menalippe’s arms. And alone Antiope has broached the subject as the pair sat out under the citrus trees and Menalippe has tried when she and Giesela ride side by side on horseback through the hills outside the city but still the girl refuses to tell them what she sees in her dreams. While they of course want Giesela to have her privacy their concerns after the first week of restless nights had led them to ask Deianeira, Evandre and Diana if the girl had shared anything with them that might help break through the defences she had built around herself. Unfortunately it seemed that Giesela had revealed nothing beyond the sparse facts of how she lost her home and mother. 

“I won’t push her.” Menalippe is stern both in her words and with the accompanying elbow into her wife’s shoulder blades, the unspoken promise that she will not allow Antiope to do so either. Hoping to placate her Antiope hums deep in her throat in agreement as Menalippe continues, “Especially not tomorrow.” Mena pauses, yawns, and then corrects herself, “Today. It’s too early.”

When the sun does rise it will be on the final day that all the children will be living together in the Capitol. That evening Hippolyta will be hosting a feast at the Palace as an official welcome to the island before Wolf and Ilse go to their new homes on either side of Themyscira. Evandre and Deianeira had remained at the Palace since their return but had decided it was finally time to take Wolf home to Abila. And Timandra who had been forgoing her usual journeys between the Capitol for Senate duties and her home in Thessaly where Nushaba waited while Ilse settled, will get to bring her family back together. 

Arno and Wolf have remained blissfully unaware of the impending monumental shift in their lives but as the day had drawn closer the three girls had become noticeably apprehensive in their own ways. When anxieties were at their highest Nushaba had her patience tested attempting to rein in Ilse’s manic fervour, Epione struggled to coax anything from a silent little Astrid and Menalippe and Antiope had met both restless nights and sullen days from their own daughter.

Their own daughter. It had really taken no time at all to think of Giesela as such though both she and Mena were being careful to allow Giesela to be the one who dictated the pace of their growing relationship. When Antiope watches Giesela help Menalippe with the household chores or glances across the practice grounds to see her learning how to use a sword it is so easy to see her at Arno’s age racing through the vegetable garden kicking up dirt or the size of Astrid struggling to hold a wooden sword in both her hands. When Antiope watches her wife and child sat beside each other at their dining table she pictures Menalippe doting over a squalling baby with deep blue eyes. 

Soon Menalippe’s breath against her neck turns into the buzz of soft snores and finally sleep returns for Antiope, leading her back to the cliff edge. Hearing her name called out Antiope turns away from the Ionian Sea in time to catch a little girl who launches herself up from the tall grass. Her giggles reverberate against the hollow of Antiope’s throat before the woman hefts her up higher and then the child’s laughter rings out like chimes in the wind.

The voice that had caught Antiope’s attention calls out again but not to her this time, “Giesela, do not run off.” 

Antiope lifts her eyes to see Menalippe in the distance walking toward her and the little girl and in a hazy stupor Antiope waits for Menalippe to reach where she stands. Her wife appears younger, no different than the day Antiope watched her walk from the ocean; no scars mar her skin but there are also no lines from a lifetime spent laughing at Antiope. Looking down at her own shoulder where Giesela’s head rests Antiope sees only flawless skin and not the tough ridged scars of a healed wound.

Reaching them Menalippe gently brushes strands of long hair out of the girl’s eyes. “Did you tell Mama it’s time to go?” Giesela just grins, flashing her baby teeth and scrunching up her sun freckled nose.

“Go where?” Antiope asks her and Menalippe gazes back curiously, trying to decide if her wife is playing with her or not.

“To Themyscira.”

In the seconds it takes to wake Antiope lives a thousand moments of a different life, one where the Amazons had not fled Greece under the Gods’ protections but chose their own path to Themyscira. One with her baby growing up on Paradise Island hidden from Man’s World.

When Antiope’s eyes open again the sun has already risen and the bed is bathed in light. Beside her Giesela has rolled out of her grasp as far as the size of the bed will allow, lying on her back she has one arm bent up over her head and the other hanging over the edge. Blinking the sleep out of her eyes Antiope smiles a little noticing the light freckles running across the bridge of the girl’s nose and the top of her cheek. Antiope lifts her head from the pillow craning above the blankets to see Menalippe pulling the cotton sleep shirt off over her head and then beginning to dress for the day.

As appealing as it is to watch her wife the disorientating remnants of her dream and the warm embrace of the blankets is far too tantalising to give up just yet. Instead of rising from the bed Antiope pulls Giesela a little nearer; her daughter gives a little whimper but doesn’t wake and Antiope closes her eyes again. She hears Menalippe tutting presumably in her direction before the blankets covering her feet and legs are thrown back. That her wife knows all her weaknesses and would happily steal her warm bed from her leaves Antiope snarling into the pillow but Menalippe’s actions do force her to drag herself up. Tucking the blankets back around Giesela Antiope is sure not to inflict the same fate on their daughter just yet. Retaliation on Menalippe will have to wait until they are next alone in their bed.

After dressing and with the decision made to leave the girl in bed Antiope takes over Giesela’s morning chore of feeding the chickens and then gathering their eggs. One particularly obstinate hen refuses to move and Antiope tries to keep the noise down in the ensuing battle of wills; not in fear of waking Giesela but that Menalippe might overhear and mock her mercilessly. After a few threats that the bird will find itself on their dinner table Antiope emerges victorious.

Coming back inside the house Menalippe is still sat at the table and seems not to have heard the scuffle. Instead her wife is focused intensely on the papers of troop schedules the pair of them had gone over last night that Menalippe would now pass on to the individual Commanders. Over the decades Antiope has never tired of working with her wife even when they disagreed, which was more often than either admitted to. Menalippe has a fiercely intelligent mind and Antiope firmly believes their routine butting of heads and the ensuing negotiations and compromises always brings out the best of her own abilities.

Leaving Menalippe to mutter over the parchment Antiope hauls a heavy pan from a hook on the wall and sets it over the fire. As it heats she makes swift work of dicing tomatoes and sweet onions then finely chopping some oregano before throwing them all in with the eggs. Menalippe may prefer to cook a dozen fine dishes that keep everyone sat around a table in the evenings for hours but Antiope’s style when it comes to meals is firmly rooted in the cooking pots over war camp fires and tossing whatever she had to hand in a single pan.

The sizzling of the hot oil and the aroma of the food fills the living area and Antiope can hear Mena’s stomach rumble across the room. It doesn’t take long for the smell to travel to the bedroom prompting Giesela to finally emerge. The blanket from the end of their bed is wrapped over her shoulders and pulled tight around her, an obvious indication that she is still shook up from last night. She goes straight to Mena at the table who pushes the chair beside her out and then Giesela shuffles it closer, leaning in against the woman’s side. Menalippe has always had that same pull with their nieces, their safe harbour whatever the storm may be and it has taken no time for Giesela to seek the same.

Antiope lifts the pan over to the table and spoons the eggs out onto three plates. While they eat Giesela remains sitting almost hip to hip with Menalippe but at least she drops the blanket to her lap. It had only taken a few meals in their own home to shake Giesela of the habit of hiding away food, learning quickly she would never go hungry here. In fact Antiope stocked more cupboards than she usually would in those first days just to ease Giesela’s mind. Now their girl eats like a soldier, leaving barely a scrap on any plate and eager for the offer of anything more that will keep her full for long gruelling days. Of course her days are not often full of weapons training and fighting but Antiope supposes they are full enough. In the hours from dawn to dusk Giesela could fit in racing through the city streets and courtyards with the younger girls or horse riding, swimming or fishing around lessons in Mnemosyne’s school room. There must also be time set aside for long walks in the Palace gardens with her aunt as decreed by Hippolyta where Giesela basked in the Queen’s undivided attention. And of course there are always chores around their home, chopping firewood or working the vegetable garden. Some days Giesela is perhaps kept busier than one of Antiope’s warriors.

True to form Giesela looks a little forlorn when she finishes her second plate and notices the pan is now empty. Of course Menalippe is already out of her chair wrapping some flatbread and an apple in a cloth for Giesela to take to class with her. “Go get ready or you will be late for school.”

“No training?” Most school days their household rises early for breakfast and then Giesela will spend some of the morning on the training grounds before lessons begin. The girl seems to be growing taller each day and her long arms mean she has a great throw with a spear and has taken to the weapon with ease under Menalippe’s guidance. In close combat Giesela is less skilled with it and in a skirmish has a preference for knives which Antiope and Egeria have been working on with her. Though Antiope is bursting with pride at Giesela’s natural flair with a variety of weapons the girl’s greatest talent is no doubt running; without much effort Giesela can get in more laps before heading off to her classroom than certain warriors could manage in the course of an entire day.

Four days of the week the three girls spend their afternoons in Mnemosyne’s classroom but given this evening’s festivities and tomorrow’s upheavals the mothers had discussed how best to prepare for today and give the children as much time together as possible. It was decided today’s lessons would be conducted early so the girls would be free to spend their afternoon with Arno and Wolf, along with Deianeira, Evandre and Diana of course.

“No training today remember.” Either Giesela does remember all too clearly and is trying to push aside the thought of events to come or more likely she had not been paying attention when told. “You can all spend the afternoon doing whatever you wish. Just be home in time to get ready for this evening.”

“But I still have to go to lessons?” Giesela slumps in her chair not even trying to disguise the displeasure in her voice; she would probably rather forgo school for the weapons training but as Ilse and Astrid are yet to join her in those particular lessons Mnemosyne’s classroom takes precedence.

“Yes you still have to go to lessons,” Menalippe replies firmly in the hopes that it will curtail any more complaining from Giesela. “And you can go fetch the girls and walk with them too.”

Eyes downcast on the table the girl plays with the end of her knife, the metal clattering on the plate as she grouses, “They know the way to school.”

“Giesela.” At Menalippe’s warning Giesela huffs loudly but gets up and heads to her room to get dressed but she is still stomping and pouting when it is time to leave the house. From the table Antiope throws the cloth sack to Giesela as she passes and in her path to the door Mena insists on tugging the reluctant girl close to plant a kiss on top of her head. Despite her current sulk Giesela isn’t quite able to cover her smile at the show of affection even as Antiope calls out teasingly, “have a good morning.” 

The constant shifting moods in their home now are not so different from Diana and Evandre at Giesela’s age, unfortunately Menalippe and Antiope cannot leave these at the Palace. While all the couple can do is hold tight and weather the storms, Antiope thinks she will need to find a way to let Mnemosyne know how appreciated her work is and apologise for the petulant adolescent they send to grace her schoolroom most days. 

Giesela does genuinely enjoy learning; she is fascinated by the sciences and the history of the Amazons and what is to her the ancient world they came from. She can get lost in tackling mathematical problems and overall is very capable of building upon knowledge she already has. Their problems lie in Giesela’s struggle with the Greek language. 

While her progress has been a little slower than the younger children Giesela can now understand the everyday conversations around her almost with ease. Though often Giesela allows her frustrations at having to focus on how to speak and her self-consciousness get the better of her despite the reassurances of everyone that she is doing well. In the classroom it is Giesela’s continued difficulty with reading and writing that some days leave her utterly miserable and they have all learned that Giesela is not one to keep her unhappiness to herself.

“We should send Mnemosyne some really good wine. Remind me to ask Nushaba about it tonight.”

Menalippe chuckles softly as she walks by Antiope’s chair and the General throws out her arm to stop her passing, wrapping herself around Menalippe’s thighs and marvelling for the thousandth time how ridiculously tall her wife is. Menalippe kisses the top of her head just as she had Giesela’s then her fingers lock behind Antiope’s neck and the General leans back to look up and tell her, “That girl can be as ill-tempered as you when your sleep is interrupted.”

Menalippe scoffs, “Or you when you don’t get your way.”

With a little nod Antiope accepts that as a fair assessment. “She is certainly ours then.”

Antiope lets go of her wife allowing her to continue to the other side of the table and gather the papers, rolling them up into a battered leather scroll case. They really do need to get moving to the practice fields, no doubt Artemis will wonder where they’ve got to and is possibly cursing their names to the Gods if she has had to tackle one of Niobe and Penthesilea’s battles over the prime areas of the training grounds without Menalippe’s intermediary tactics.

 

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In the centre of the city the streets were already bustling with amazons starting their day. Through the open windows of her town house Epione can hear hooves and cartwheels clattering along cobbles and the voices of women greeting each other. The cacophony of sounds seem all the louder as Astrid is having one of her quiet mornings. Currently the little girl is sat at the table in the kitchen squirming on her chair, one hand stirring the spoon in her breakfast bowl in small circles and the other playing with the edge of her blanket that drapes down from her lap onto the floor.

So far Epione had smoothly faced the challenge of bringing the girl back to full health. Though Astrid still tired easier than Ilse if she tried to keep pace with the older girl all day, regular food along with a selection of tonics had made the little girl far stronger in the past months. Strong and stubborn. Astrid continued to argue she was no longer a baby who required naps while Epione still persisted in taking quiet time together each day; inevitably the girl would fall asleep in her arms despite her determination not to and they would go through the same routine the following day.

Epione also wanted to ensure she gave Astrid the best care and nurture beyond the needs of her body and those she was no expert in. So she had pressed the Queen and Consort for all the knowledge they had to offer on the routines that would provide the best home for a child to grow in, fully aware that she would not be raising the girl alone but with the help and experiences of many other women. In no time her home which had been a retreat into solitude was besieged by games and puzzles, fabric dolls and wooden chariots. And it was not just the Princess’ old things Larina had conjured up from storage, Hippolyta and Philippus had gone out of their way to have new toys and clothes made for each of the girls as well as their grandsons and then of course all the craftswomen of the Capitol were more than willing to contribute to the happiness of the newest amazons. Now Epione could not walk into a room in the house without finding an abandoned shoe, sticks of chalk and accompanying smudges, knotted hair ribbons or scattered little handfuls of red pines cones. There wasn’t a single part of Epione’s home or heart untouched by Astrid.

As she did every morning Epione had woken the five year old a little after the sun had risen and then helped her to wash and dress. Diana at Astrid’s age had ran around the Capitol like a terror but still relied on her mother to choose her clothes in the mornings, sooth a scraped knee, even on occasion help cut up her food if she struggled with a knife. Before Themyscira Astrid had had to be far more independent even with the care Giesela and Ilse had given her. Those first couple of days with Epione she had been adamant on trying to dress herself or reach from things too high for her. It had not taken long for Astrid to give in to her own desire to be cared for and to begin asking Epione for help when she needed it; the pleasure at having a mother to buckle a belt or lace her sandals was evident on her face each occasion.

Each morning they would make breakfast together with Astrid on a small stool beside the table, stretching up on her toes to reach the countertop. Cool yoghurt and fruits of all kinds had become a favourite, Astrid especially liking the softer fruits she could mash into the plain yoghurts before Epione drizzled a little honey on top. The healer had allowed Astrid to do it only once herself, since gaining a full appetite the girl had developed a taste for sweetness and had ended up with a bowl more honey than anything else.

One morning at the table over breakfast Astrid had started humming the lullabies Epione had sang softly to the girl those first couple of nights to get her to sleep. Over the next few days as Epione washed Astrid’s face or picked out clothes or cleaned up the breakfast dishes she had encouraged the little girl by singing through arias and ballads, songs that praised the Gods or celebrated great warriors’ feats. Epione even shared a couple of the cleaner drinking songs she knew and gradually Astrid’s timid voice had grown stronger as she sang along. 

But there was no singing this morning, the impending departure of her best friend obviously weighing too heavily on Astrid’s thoughts for there to be any such cheerfulness. Swirling the coffee in the cup in her hands Epione hums Astrid’s favourite lullaby to try to ease the girl’s mind as much as she can. There have been a few days like this one that start with Astrid slipping back into silence even at home and continue with her shying away from anyone trying to talk to her. On days like this Astrid would choose to spend the whole day on Epione’s lap if she could, with the edge of her blanket held against her lips as though it could hold back her words. Then like the sky clearing after a storm, the day that followed Astrid would be full of gleeful singing. Epione was simply thankful that Astrid’s voice was never stolen for long.

“You have school this morning remember. Eat up.”

Astrid manages only one more mouthful of raspberries before Epione accepts finishing the meal is a lost cause. Before taking the bowl from the table she kneels beside Astrid’s chair and brushes a few strands of hair from the girl’s eyes. Astrid had insisted this morning she wanted it left down and Epione already despairs at how tangled it will be come this evening. The woman smiles until Astrid blinks at her and then the girl’s lips rise in a slight smile of her own. “Today will be a good day. I promise.”

The healer rises taking the half empty bowl and is just dropping it in to the wash basin when a fist drums forcefully at the door. Epione pulls the door open to find on her doorstep with her arm raised mid knock. At Epione’s glare the older girl drops her hand and at least has the decency to look a little contrite.

“Good Morning Giesela.”

“Morning. Menalippe said I had to come fetch Astrid today.” Giesela has exactly the same resigned posture as Diana whenever she was caught by Mnemosyne or her mother and dragged from the training grounds, or Evandre when she wasn’t allowed to ride her horse. If she had to guess Epione would say Menalippe and Antiope faced as trying a morning as she did and no doubt Astrid’s silence and need of comfort in Epione’s arms will in time give way to the same attitude.

“Astrid, Giesela is here,” Epione calls out and the little girl comes running the moment she hears Giesela’s name, her blanket trailing after her as she slides across the stone floor stopped only by the impact into Giesela. She wraps her arms around Giesela’s leg and the older child’s surly demeanour of moments before melts away.

Reluctantly Astrid hands her blanket over to Epione, pausing as though reconsidering the decision but eventually uncurling her fingers from it. Epione has told the girl a number of times she would be happy to let Astrid hold onto it for the day even in school if it will make her feel better but Astrid frets over the blanket getting lost or dirty so prefers it to stay at home.

“Will you look after it?” Astrid’s chestnut brown eyes are impossibly wide and imploring.

“Of course, you know I always will.”

Carefully Epione folds the blanket into a thick square and places on the nearby bench seat then she takes up the dark blue leather satchel and slides the strap over Astrid’s head, the girl raising her arm like she does when Epione gets her into her night shirt. Hugging Astrid tight the woman tells her, “You can go play after your lessons but be home before dark. We will have to get you washed and dressed for tonight.”

Astrid gives her a little nod and a whispered, “Yes Mama.”

“I will be in the Apothecary if you need me.” That gets a nod from Gisela too and Epione knows she will watch over her little girl.

Two doors down Timandra is already on the doorstep when Giesela comes out of Epione’s home with Astrid, barely able to keep a hold on Ilse’s wrist to tell her to be good today and remind her Nushaba arrives back this afternoon for the festivities. Though Ilse hardly needed reminding, having asked every day how long it was until she got to see her Mama again. The child had taken to referring to them both as ‘mama’ as often as she used their names but each time hearing it made Timandra smile so hard her cheeks hurt.

Finally being released from Timandra’s grasp Ilse bounds off the steps to join the other two. A second later she is racing back and ducking under Timandra’s arm calling, “I forgot my workbook.” And back out before the woman even has a chance to move. “Bye, Mama.”

Timandra watches the three girls walk off towards Mnemosyne’s schoolroom by the Palace’s west side. The last Timandra sees of them before they turn up the hill and out of her sight Giesela has her arms over both of the younger girl’s shoulders, the one around Ilse tugging her back in line every time she is distracted by greeting someone she knows.

The past two days there had been no lessons and frankly Timandra had found having Ilse around the house exhausting. A regular day keeping up with the seven year old’s energy was taxing enough but she was currently endeavouring to pack up all of Ilse’s belongings along with the few things she moved between the apartment here and the house in Thessaly. The entire time Ilse had been bubbling over with excitement fuelled by both anticipation and nervousness, so much so that Timandra had begun sending the girl on no end of errands around the market or to friends just to give Ilse something to focus on. Meanwhile Timandra was left packing trunks and straw lined wooden crates wondering quite how their daughter had managed to acquire so much stuff in a few short months.

Late last night the packing was finished under lantern light with the help of Charope and more than a few cups of wine. The pair of them had spent most of the time whispering and hushing each other’s laughter so not to wake Ilse. There were no Senate sessions today nor would Timandra be expected to attend for a time while she settled Ilse in Thessaly but she wanted to check in with her colleagues before leaving the Capitol tomorrow so made her way to the Senate building.

In their shared chambers Timandra found Charope a little worse for wear from last night’s wine; when Timandra tried to open the window blinds the women groaned in discomfort and dropped her head to the desk hiding from the harsh sun under her raven hair. Since her friend’s condition was mostly her fault Timandra left the blinds and got to work squinting her way through the papers on her own desk in the gloomy light. 

Before noon Charope had scurried off to a meeting and Timandra was storing away a stack of cloth bound reference books before leaving herself when there was a rap on the door frame. 

“I heard you had slipped in this morning.” Hippolyta barely paused in the doorway before marching into the room and perching against the edge of Charope’s unoccupied desk while Venelia and Orithyia took up positions in the corridor. “Why are you working in the dark?”

Timandra pushes the last book back into its place on the shelf then drops into her chair, throwing her arm back to give the wooden shutter a nudge and let the sunlight spill in. “Charope was feeling a little delicate this morning.”

“You really should find another way to convince Charope to help you other than plying her with wine.” Timandra would agree but after many years it still proves to be the most effective means and Hippolyta can only smile at her when she shrugs off the suggestion. “How goes the packing?”

The Senator sinks lower in her seat letting out an exhausted sigh. “It is done, though I thought it might never end. I am finding things of Ilse’s everywhere. I’m certain Zeus made her part magpie, no one person has that much… stuff.”

“Then you have not seen Antiope’s private weapons collection in some time.” As Timandra laughs nodding Hippolyta settles more comfortably, pulling herself up to sit on the desktop with her legs crossed at her ankles and her hands resting on her lap, fingers interlaced. Not for the first time Timandra thinks there is something undeniably charming in the unguarded moments that Hippolyta sheds her regal manner, such as right now as she gently swings her legs off the floor. And sometimes it is too easy to forget that Hippolyta the Amazon Queen is also her old friend who always knows just what is troubling her. “And how is Ilse?”

Timandra takes a deep breath and brushes her fingertips over the surface of the desk before answering. “Ilse pushes too much aside and it will only build up. She is so much like Nushaba in that way.”

They both remember when the amazons had first arrived on Themyscira and how challenging the changes had been for every one of them. Some of the women talked of battles fought, loved ones they had lost or left behind, the many forms darkness had taken in their old lives. Just as often they remembered kisses and flowers, the fresh fruit picked off a certain tree, the sounds of bells calling people to temples, the way the sun fell in patchwork over farmlands. Nushaba had thrown herself into their new life with enthusiasm but she refused to speak with anyone of days before the island; she had tried to bury it all, good and bad, until doing so had overwhelmed her.

There was no vineyard, no Thessaly. No Capitol really, at least not like they had today. The Gods had provided the Amazons a paradise island with a wildness that could sustain them, the rest they would have to build for themselves. For the first few years their homes had been a number of tented camps fairly close together while once warriors became stone masons and carpenters to construct essential structures like houses, stables and workshops or farmers cultivating the land. Plans of libraries, armouries, amiptheatres and Palaces were still far off dreams on drafting paper.

Even on Themyscira, without the excuse of constant fighting and relocating, Timandra was terrible with keeping their tent maintained. Fortunately for her Nushaba took immense pride in their home even if it was currently only a few sheets of canvas. Timandra had just returned from one of the newly built kitchens where Larina was delighting over her clay oven and baking more pastries than even the full troops of the Amazon army could eat. She dropped the breakfast offering on the small table in the centre of the tent and pulled up two stools, one with a seat of fraying cloth stretched over tripod wooden legs and one beautifully carved of Themysciran oak that Timandra had crafted herself for Nushaba, a small promise of the home she intended for them to build together. 

“Nushaba, come sit. I brought your favourite.”

Despite the offering Nushaba remained focused on tightening twine around one of the stripped wooden poles holding the tent’s canvas up. Her wife had been patching holes and refastening seams since before Timandra had even woke this morning and she had hoped that Nushaba might be done with the chore by now. Around mouthfuls of her own pastry Timandra gently chided her wife that a tear in their tent was merely a way of letting in the starlight, reassuring Nushaba that they could lay in bed and gaze up at the spinning constellations sharing the tales of Andromeda and Cassiopeia if repairs weren’t made.

When her breakfast was finished Timandra contemplated for a moment if she could get away with taking the untouched pastry she had brought back for her wife. Looking over to Nushaba for more than a glance however, and no longer distracted by her morning meal, it only took a moment to see Nushaba’s growing frustration with her task; her breathing was heavy, forearms shaking and her usually deft fingers unable to complete what they could do easily.

“Nushaba?”

“I have to…” Irritably Nushaba shakes off the hand Timandra places on her shoulder. “Have to fix it. I have to make it right and keep us safe and…”

With a little force Timandra tugs the other woman around to face her. There is a wild, lost look to Nushaba’s eyes. “We are safe. Nushaba, we are safe here.”

It hadn’t taken any more than those words to bring Nushaba into Timandra’s arms, slack against her and sobbing. Timandra had led her to their bed and they had hidden under their blankets ignoring passing amazons outside and the daily goings on of life in Themyscira. While stroking Nushaba’s hair Timandra had listened to her wife finally give voice to all her fears, promising to share their burden and make them lighter.

Sat in her Senate chambers now Timandra is counselled by Hippolyta with the same advice for Ilse as she had offered then for Nushaba, “Just be there when she needs you.”

However it is not easy to simply sit and wait for heartbreak. “We should have made more visits to Thessaly so she would think of it as home. We should have given the girls more opportunities to get used to being apart.”

Hippolyta slides from the desk, her boots hitting the floor with a soft thud. The minute she stands Hippolyta’s back straightens and her shoulders set, the bearing coming to her without conscious thought. “You cannot keep second guessing your decisions, Timandra. You are a good mother, so is Nushaba.”

Together the Queen and Senator leave the office and the building discussing the happier subject of the welcome feast, the minor ceremonial aspects to be adhered to and the greater tasks of making the hall ready and providing enough food and drink for all attending. Larina and Marpesia have been collaborating for weeks in preparation but now the work had begun in earnest and Hippolyta tells Timandra she had trouble sleeping last night due to the aroma from the kitchens already wafting through the Palace. They part ways at a bridge by the blacksmith’s, Acca giving them both a wave in greeting before she plunges a horseshoe into a barrel of water and a cloud of steam rises to envelope her.

Continuing through the city Timandra passes the row of workshops housing a number of painters, sculptors and weavers. The large barn doors of Iole’s studio are thrown open and in the courtyard in front of them Evandre stands before a painting she had been working on while in the Capitol. Both she and Deianeira had been eager to return home to Abila but they had agreed before the boat even arrived back to Themyscira that they would stay in the city while the children settled. In the darkness crossing the waves of the open ocean they had not been sure then exactly what would happen with the girls, who would care for them, but they knew that along with Diana they had a responsibility to ensure all the children were happy in their new home before returning to their own and that Wolf would easily adapt to an eventual move to Abila no matter when it happened.

Whilst in the Capitol Evandre had split her time between Iole’s studio brushing up on her techniques under her old tutor’s watchful eye and being not so gently persuaded to attend Senate sessions by her mother. Her work as Councillor did not go completely unattended either. Anaea sent dispatches with riders from Abila every few days, leather satchels packed with scrolls and parchment that she poured over sat on the Palace balcony while rocking Wolf’s basinet beside her.

Meanwhile Deianeira kept herself busy at the stables with Celaeno, training the horses that arrived from all across the island not just Abila. Evandre knew Deianeira loved their family and friends in the Capitol and enjoyed the different work she did here but they both felt a longing for the plains and meadows of home. In letters Cynna assured them both that their home was indeed still standing after such a long absence, having kept the house clean and aired for them herself.

Through Europe they amazons had carried minimal packs with them but Evandre had been sure to stuff a couple of sketchbooks into the bottom of her bag along with a supply of charcoal, a comfort she could bring from home on the journey. The night they had spent with Etta the old woman had gifted Evandre a small wooden box with a dozen pencils which the young amazon cherished and on her return Iole had immediately set to work replicating the idea. As the moved across the continent toward Prussia and then back to Belgium Evandre had filled pages with renderings of beautiful and wondrous buildings, almost all in devastation and ruin; of their camp in forests or in meadows, in sunshine and mud. She drew the girls’ faces, their emerging smiles swell as a few tears. And she had spent so long watching Deianeira with Wolf, his fingers curling tight around one of her own, her lips pressed to his cheek, that almost one whole book was dedicated to them as subjects alone.

The painting Evandre had just finished she had wanted to gift to her parents once she took her family home. On a panel of pale wood she’d painted Deianeira cradling a sleepy Wolf, her head bowed to look down at him and his deep brown eyes hidden by sleepy half closed lids. While Evandre drew often at home painting on a scale like this was far more uncommon for her but she found herself easily falling into the old rhythm. It had only felt like work when she had to herself into the portrait but with her old teacher’s guidance she finally had a result she was reasonably happy with and more importantly one she was sure her Mama and Papa would adore.

This morning she had come to the studio only to add some finishing touches while Deianeira was at the stables, where Wolf would be strapped to her chest snoozing happily as she led horses around the arena on guide ropes. Three hours later she was finally putting her brush down. Evandre wipes the paint from her hands with a rag and stands back from the piece. She is still eyeing it critically when Iole emerges from inside.

“It is good work. Don’t overthink it,” the older woman tuts at her. 

“Maybe if I just…” Evandre reaches for the paintbrush sat in a cup of now murky coloured water but Iole slaps her hand away.

“Did nothing I taught you stay in that head of yours?” 

Holding her hands up in surrender to her mentor Evandre steps away from the painting, Iole had been known to find a rag to snap at the younger amazon if she thought her message was failing to get through. Waved off by the artist, Evandre leaves her work in Iole’s safe hands to dry and heads off toward Mnemosyne’s school room.

Only days after the children arrived on the island the same small building Evandre had been taught in and Diana before her was set up again as a school; only this time there were three small desks instead of one. And though Ilse would be leaving one of them empty soon in no time Arno would be old enough to take that place. Evandre and Deianeira had not yet thought what they would do with Wolf once he had learned all he could from them at home but Ilse had already been found a tutor in Thessaly. Evandre thinks she may have enjoyed lessons a whole lot more if she’d had other children to share them with but knowing Ilse not much would detract from her joy even if she did have to take lessons on her own in future.

The classroom sits on the top of a slope overlooking the western road out of the Capitol, wide and lined with olive trees. A low stone wall curves with the path up the hill and then sweeps out to create a small courtyard in front of the school’s door where she finds Diana is already waiting, leaning back against the wall with a large food basket set at her feet. Her older sister has already brought Arno here a few mornings to sit with the girls for one of Mnemosyne’s classes and the boy obviously thinks that is where he should be now judging by the fact that he is bouncing at the door wanting to go in.

Arno’s interest in the classroom is cast aside the moment he notices his aunt walking up the hill and immediately comes running to her, wrapping his arms around Evandre’s leg. The little boy is still happiest with Diana’s presence but it has been heartening to see how he now so enthusiastically greets his family, wants to be affectionate with others and is adorably insistent on attention in return.

“Vandre,” Arno cries out shrilly. Evandre lifts him up and he giggles when she kisses his cheek. He is still in her arms when the girls are let out of class, all pleasantly surprised to find the trio waiting for them.

Amongst the chorus of questions thrown at them Diana finally gets heard. “We thought we could all spend the afternoon together.”

“And have an adventure?” Ilse’s green eyes sparkle like morning dew on grass.

Diana rolls her eyes as if she can’t believe Ilse would expect anything else. “Of course.” She picks up the basket in one hand and with no effort scoops Astrid off her feet with her free arm.

Giesela places her hands on Ilse’s shoulders and starts walking her down the hill after Diana with Evandre beside them. Though she hasn’t been required to for quite some time now Ilse reaches over and brushes her fingers against Evandre’s; the young amazon takes hold of them, giving the girl’s fingers a squeeze and Giesela picks up her pace to catch up to Diana. On Evandre’s shoulders now, her free hand tight round his ankle, Arno has his hands tangled in Evandre’s hair tugging occasionally like he’s trying to guide the direction of a pony.

Their adventure it turns out is a meandering path down to the beach where Deianeira and Wolf wait with two blankets spread across the grass beside the beach. Evandre would prefer to be on the beach itself only a few footfalls away but Deianeira is not a fan of sand. Besides that fact Deianeira is already settled and has raised a small canopy held up by poles jammed into the earth to keep the sun off the baby. Right away Ilse, Astrid and Arno race off to play in the shallow surf and as Evandre has already picked up their son Deianeira follows the children down the beach to relieve them of their clothing before they hit the water. She is successful in saving most of it before they start splashing each other.

Evandre holds Wolf over the golden sand with his legs bouncing as he tries to walk but he is still a way off from that milestone; together they watch the other children play as Evandre provides her son a commentary on their games and Diana and Giesela diving in and out of the surf further out in the ocean’s depths. After a while Evandre sits Wolf down on the blanket, curving a smaller roll of fabric around his hips so he can sit upright chewing happily on his fist as she starts to unpack the basket Diana brought. Pulling Wolf’s hand away from his mouth she instead gives the baby a piece of bread which he chews on gummily, drooling onto his fist and making the bread soggy. When their lunch is laid out Evandre calls the others back to eat.

Diana jogs across the golden sand, slowing to make sure she doesn’t kick any of it towards the food. When she reaches the blanket Evandre tosses her sister her dress and Diana pulls it back over her head. Giesela is doing the same while Deianeira struggles to catch each of the younger children in a towel as they scrabble for the food. When they are happily eating the girls are finally sat still enough to allow Deianeira to quickly rub their dripping hair and Arno settles between Diana’s knees trying to duck her own efforts to do the same.

It takes very little time for everything to be devoured. Evandre lies back on the blanket the moment she is done and Giesela picks up Wolf to wander with him along the hard wet sand, the froth from the crashing of the waves washing over her feet. Diana leads the rest of the children on a treasure hunt leaving Deianeira to watch from the blanket beside the now snoozing Evandre. 

The small group search the white sands for brightly coloured shells with Arno holding tight to Diana’s hand, tugging her in whatever direction he wishes to search but after a time the boy starts to swing on her arm with his full weight until she focuses her attention on him instead of Ilse and the pink shell she is holding out for the woman to admire. Still not satisfied he has his mother’s full attention Arno’s bottom lip sticks out as he whines, “Mama.”

Crouching down before him Diana asks, “You don’t want to look for shells?”

Miserably he gives his head a little shake. Seeing her son act like a walk on the beach is the greatest burden ever put on him only brings a smile to Diana’s lips. Turning him around Diana points back toward her sister and tells Arno, “Go sit with Aunt Evandre then.” Diana sends him toward Evandre and Deianeira with a kiss on his head and a pat on his backside. At a little trot hampered by the soft sand Arno makes it to the blanket and Deianeira’s waiting outstretched arms. When Diana next looks over to check on him Arno is curled asleep between both the women with his head on Deianeira’s lap.

The treasure hunt continues until Astrid squeals and jogs off eagerly toward a giant patch of seaweed ahead of them further up the shore, exclaiming her hope at finding a jellyfish.

The moment that they are alone Ilse asks with unusual softness, “Will you come visit me?” Her eyes remain fixed on the ground they are currently searching for shells and her toes digging into the sand.

“Of course I will,” Diana promises. Ilse doesn’t lift her head but she does peek up at Diana from under the red curls covering her eyes. “You know when I was your age my mother took me travelling all over the island. I have only been to Thessaly a few times but it was very beautiful. I think the last time I was there was at the end of the harvest.”

Astrid has wandered back along with Giesela and the baby. Thankfully it seems there was no jellyfish to be found, or at least Giesela had made sure if one were there Astrid had not picked it up. In her arms the older girl is letting Wolf play with a large shell while making sure he doesn’t put it in his mouth.

“Next harvest Nushaba says I can tread on the grapes,” Ilse exclaims excitedly. When Astrid looks confused by this Diana explains the tradition for wine makers to press the grapes with their feet in the celebration at the end of a harvest. The clarification only seems to make Astrid’s eyes grow wider with disbelief.

“That’s not true Ilse,” Astrid tells her best friend seriously. But then she looks up to Diana, “Is it true?”

“I promise it is completely true.”

While Astrid ponders this new piece of information Ilse tentatively asks Diana, “Will Venelia come too? When you visit me.”

Before the amazon can even answer Giesela cheekily adds, “As a Guard or something else?”

Perking up Astrid asks her, “Is she going to be Arno’s mama too?”

She and Venelia have of course spoken of what their being a couple will mean for Arno but neither have really shared the progress of their relationship with anyone else. Even Hippolyta has not pushed the subject which Diana thinks is likely due to concern she will frighten off her daughter’s suitor. Currently though the three girls are all gazing up at her expectantly and Diana thinks there really is no getting out of the situation without saying something. “I think she will prefer to be Papa.”

Standing beside Diana, leaning her shoulder against the woman’s leg, Astrid murmurs, “Like Philippus and Evandre.” The five year old seems to be confirming the fact more for herself than for anyone else.

Amidst the flurry of questions from Ilse, Giesela leaves the three to resume their shell hunting though it seems all the interest now lies with Diana’s love life. She strolls back to Evandre and Deianeira telling Wolf all about the different fish that could been found beneath the waves they pass. He doesn’t really understand her of course but Giesela supposes that might be why she feels a little easier speaking to him in Greek than any of the others; Wolf certainly won’t be judging her progress and in fact he makes all the appropriate awed gasps and happy coos whenever she pauses. 

Her leisurely steps get a little more hurried when the baby starts to squirm in her arms in a very familiar way and she manages to hand Wolf over to Evandre just in time for a change, a task Giesela has gone out of her way to avoid since the moment the amazons had found them all in the forest. As Evandre fights to keep Wolf from rolling off his back and crawling away from her Giesela sits by Deianeira on her side not taken by a napping toddler and closes her own eyes. The sun has managed to creep around one edge of canopy and Evandre can feel the slight burn across her cheek and see a deep orange glow from behind her eyelids. Evandre is grumbling under her breath at the baby who apparently won’t stop wriggling but with Arno asleep it is otherwise quiet where they sit; in the distance she can hear Diana laughing and Astrid actually shrieking loudly in delight. Giesela feels fingers comb through her hair and leans into the familiar touch but it takes only a few moments for Deianeira realises just how tangled Giesela’s hair is and instructs her to fetch a brush from a nearby satchel. She sits down again with her back to Deianeira and the older amazon begins to drag out the knots from the earlier swim before braiding her hair.

With the new tight braid in place Giesela returns the brush to the bag it came from and then claims a place beside Evandre. She is done with wrapping a new cloth around Wolf and holds the baby on her lap, her little finger held to his lips to keep him from getting grizzly. 

“I’ll miss you. Both of you.” After a moments pause Giesela adds, “Maybe not Wolf when he needs changing.”

“We will miss you too.” Evandre pulls Giesela’s face close with a gentle hand and kisses her and for once the girl allows the gesture without any protest. Beside them Deianeira strokes Arno’s hair and Giesela watches his nose twitch in his sleep like someone is brushing a feather across his face.

In no time their beach adventure is over and the little children are rounded up, the blanket folded, canopy taken down and they all walk back to town. Surprisingly Ilse does not go bounding off ahead even though now that she knows every street of the Capitol Giesela is sure the women would be happy to let her. Instead she takes Deianeira’s hand and tells her all about a new book she has on Greek philosophy, their joined hands swinging between them. Giesela rolls her eyes at the topic and is somewhat glad when they part company, with Evandre and Deianeira walking Ilse and Astrid back to their mothers and Diana and Arno accompanying her on their way to the Palace.

Drawing closer to her house they see Antiope in the front of the garden attacking a patch of particularly stubborn weeds, treating the whole exercise as seriously as battle. Giesela searches the yard and spots Menalippe sat on a stool against the wall of the house under the shade of the overhanging roof. What Giesela thinks might be parts of a clay pipe are scattered around Menalippe’s feet and she looks to the east corner of the roof and notes the drain now stops quite a way short of the water barrel.

Getting ahead of Diana and Giesela, Arno races to Antiope. The boy’s sandals smacking on the path give Antiope enough warning of his approach to wipe off her muddy hands before he reaches her and when he does Antiope snatches him up and swings him in the air above the vegetable patch. After putting the toddler down his attention immediately turns to Menalippe, or more accurately the fascinating bits of clay pipe on the ground in front of her. 

When Diana strolls into the garden Arno is already sat on the dusty earth rolling a piece of the pipe back and forth on the floor. Above him his mother and aunt exchange pleasantries until a hand is held out intended for him to take. Arno throws a curious glance at Menalippe then back at the pipes, then up to Diana. “Help Mena?”

“Not today little man. We have a party to get ready for.” By the scowl on his face Arno would much prefer being sat in the dirt than going to a party.

Menalippe leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “How about you come and help me tomorrow? I will think of something special just for us to do.”

A smile lights up Arno’s face. He jumps to his feet grabbing her neck in a hug and is then much happier about accepting Diana’s outstretched hand to be led back to the Palace.

The remaining drain pipe pieces are wrapped in canvas and set aside to be restored to their correct place tomorrow. Reluctantly Antiope concedes the vegetable garden war to the weeds unable to convince Menalippe she has plenty of time to get herself prepared for the evening and Giesela leaves her guardians’ good natured bickering behind to make use of the washroom and rinse off the remaining sand and sea salt that had not been brushed from her hair.

With Giesela occupied Menalippe goes to her bedroom to lay out the new set of leathers and armour that she and Antiope had commissioned. The girl had hated every moment of the fittings; Menalippe had thought at first it was merely restlessness at standing still to be measured and re-measured, having muslin templates draped over her shoulders and wrapped around her waist as though she were a doll to dress up. But on the third fitting when Giesela had almost bolted under Phoebe’s touch Menalippe asked the seamstress to give them a moment alone. 

Confessions did not come as easily to Giesela as complaining, she saw the later as making her fiercer while sharing her feelings left her more vulnerable than she cared to be. After a few minutes patiently waiting while Giesela kicked her heel against the floor Menalippe finally had her explanation that Giesela was uncomfortable with having to be in her underclothes around a woman she barely knew. After extracting a promise from the girl that she would always tell herself or Antiope if she ever felt unsure in any situation, Menalippe had thanked Phoebe for her time and promised to make arrangements for the next fitting. The arrangements had been Menalippe brushing up on her admittedly limited knowledge of tailoring and leatherwork; she would bring the samples from Phoebe workshop home, checking the fit on Giesela and then taking back new measurements where necessary. 

The look on Giesela’s face when she had first seen the embossed eagle sweeping down one shoulder and across the breast of the chestnut coloured leather, much like Hippolyta’s own motif, had told Menalippe she was forgiven for all the times she had accidently stuck the girl with pins.

Menalippe has to move discarded clothing, books and a dozen small pieces of rope with various knots tied in them Giesela had been practicing before going out fishing with Cordelia before she can tug the covers of the unmade bed into order and lay out the armour. Giesela returns wrapped in a towel while Menalippe is picking up yet more clothes from the floor and receives a warning swot on her backside as she passes. “Keep your room tidy,” Menalippe orders as she leaves the girl to dress.

When Menalippe takes her own turn in the washroom, her back aches from sitting on the rickety stool bent over the pipe in the garden, knowing she should have left the task another day and taken a long hot bath instead after being knocked flat by a sweeping spear wielded by Niobe this morning. And now there is no time to indulge; instead she stands under a spray of water which at least in the evening is warm from sitting in the day’s sun, unlike the frigid cold that can hit her skin some mornings. When she is finished and steps back into the living area Menalippe sees Antiope is still sat in front of the fireplace running a polishing cloth over a piece of her own armour. Frustratingly Antiope as usual will change with only minutes to spare and no prompting or pestering from her wife will get the woman to move any swifter. Menalippe does throw a disapproving growl in Antiope’s direction however but the other woman merely smirks as she continues to rub small circles over the metal with a soft cloth. 

Mena is almost to the door of their bedroom when an outburst of cursing rises from behind Giesela’s door. In perfect Greek. Turning toward her wife accusingly she hisses, “Antiope!”

“What? She is learning. And it is Greek is it not?”

Giesela emerges into the living room midway through Antiope’s defence of the unorthodox teaching method and sheepishly comes to stand before Menalippe mumbling 'sorry'. Fortunately for her daughter Menalippe’s displeasure remains focused on Antiope. “And when Hippolyta hears her?”

Though Giesela has managed to don the new leathers without any difficulty the breastplate of the armour is unbuckled off one shoulder. Menalippe adjusts it to sit properly on the girl’s shoulders before fastening the strap. With Menalippe’s attention off her for a moment Antiope calls over her shoulder, “Giesela, remember to use complete sentences and the correct pronunciation.”

Giesela lowers her face to hide her grin but Menalippe can still hear the snigger that is so much like Antiope’s.

 

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At the Palace through the morning and afternoon Philippus had been helping Hippolyta oversee the setting up of the great hall. Mostly her helping involved staying out of her wife’s way and volunteering her guards for any duties that required following simple instructions or the application of a little brute strength. A few hours ago everything had finally been deemed to meet with Hippolyta’s satisfaction but even though the hall was in full splendour Hippolyta had not yet relaxed. Through getting herself dressed in her golden armour with the engraved eagle spreading wings across her chest Hippolyta fussed over not only her own outfit but each piece of clothing Philippus picked from her wardrobe to wear, rejecting several that were perfectly fine choices. Then there was her wife’s restless shifting in her chair as their fellow amazons began filling the hall that no one else would notice but began to drive Philippus a little crazy as Hippolyta kept nudging her thigh beneath the table. It was not until her wife had finished her speech that welcomed all the guests and ceremoniously decreed Giesela, Ilse, Astrid, Arno and Wolf children of the Amazon nation that Philippus got to watch Hippolyta drop the last vestige of stiff formality and allow herself to enjoy the company of the women around them, and the cup of wine Philippus placed in her hand.

As usual Hippolyta greeted every amazon as a close friend, perhaps more so the women not from the Capitol she rarely got to spend time with. Nushaba was back from Thessaly along with some of her village’s women and there was a contingent from Abila of course but also Masis, Ithaca, Delphi and many other prominent towns across the island who were joining the amazons of the Capitol for the occasion.

There was no formal sit down meal, a lesson they had learned with the similar ceremony for Evandre a few months after her own arrival on Themyscira. Their baby had become a demanding little princess by then and expecting her to sit in a high chair through five courses content and behaving herself had not been their clearest thinking as mothers. Evandre was already moody by the time desserts arrived at the table, wriggling to try to free her little legs and crawl over the rail that held her in the sea but when she had been told there would be no more melomakarona for little girls, having been a fiend for the honey dipped treats since they had been placed on the table in front of her, Evandre had screamed herself red in the face. The only person able to calm her down at the time had been Artemis; it wasn’t until many years later that Philippus had discovered the other woman’s miracle feat had less to do with her way with children than it did the stash of melomakarona she had secretly shared with the toddler.

With lessons learnt, this time the evening had been planned with the input of the girls and it had been decided one table would be set aside for food and everyone could walk up to help themselves. Evandre had insisted the children have the feast they’d been promised around their final campfire in the world of Men and Larina and Marpesia had not disappointed. When the little ones arrived earlier they had stood wide-eyed at the table now piled with all kinds of treats and delicacies and Philippus had had to hold Arno back from diving from her arms for something which had immediately caught his eye. In a bold remark with a cheeky smile they had become used to from her, Giesela had simply been thankful not to have to suffer any more of Evandre’s cooking.

With royal declarations out of the way the women all move amongst the seats, switching places to greet each other or carrying plates of roasted meats and stuffed vine leaves back to their tables. A group of musicians were set up at the far end of the room; Hippolyta had seen that enough women were invited to play with the intention that they would take turns performing and so also get free time to enjoy the party.

In the chairs beside Philippus, Epione and Hippolyta are engrossed in conversation and from what she has overheard it seems there is a plan being set in motion to introduce Astrid to horse riding. Astrid herself had begun the evening hiding on her mother’s lap; during Hippolyta’s speeches the little girl had blushed furiously at just the mention of her name and the perceived focus of attention on her. Then the first of the musicians had stepped up, a chelys player and a singer from Ithaca who from the sound of her honeyed voice may have siren blood in her. The young girl had slipped off Epione’s lap and manoeuvred around the edge of the top table to get a clear view and then stood a while with one hand on the table leg gradually inching forward as if being pulled in. A siren indeed. Eventually Astrid threw a glance toward Epione. She did not have to say a word for Epione to understand what she wanted.

“You can go closer Little One.”

Astrid practically crept around the wall of the hall to stop a little ways in front of the musicians where the singer had noticed the little girl’s interest and focused her attention on her new admirer. The musicians had since changed a couple of times, the tempo of the songs adjusting with them, but for now the singer remained; as did Astrid sat crossed legged on the floor before them. 

On the table nearest Astrid, Venelia is sat with a group of her friends including a number of Philippus’ Guards. Venelia had given Timandra a quick nod when the girl settled herself to let the other woman know she would keep an eye on Astrid and Philippus watched her Lieutenant effortlessly balance conversations with the other amazons, entertaining Arno and maintaining a watchful gaze over Astrid. 

While Philippus embraced her reputation of being a steely commander who would torture the Guards through relentless drills or punish a snide remark with a month of sentry duty in the most remote unused parts of the Palace, Philippus knows she has never really been able to hide how much she revels in seeing her Guards out of uniform, relaxed and enjoying themselves. And Venelia’s happiness has become of particular interest since her relationship with Diana became public. 

The blonde woman seems just as at ease in a charcoal grey dress, silver bracelets winding up her forearm, as she does in armour and bracers; unlike a few warriors around the room who either decided on dress armour or have regretted their decision and have spent the night shifting uncomfortably in dresses. Philippus is pleased to see Venelia has spent most of the evening so far taking responsibility for Arno herself, in fact shooing Diana away several times. Philippus had been particularly impressed with how Venelia coped with Arno’s more challenging behaviour. She had been firm with him about allowing his Mama to go speak with friend at another table, reassuring the boy they would be able to watch her the whole time. Then Venelia had held Arno up over the food table to pick whatever he had wanted, and successfully juggled two plates and a three year old to get back to the table to sit beside Hippolyta and herself. After a few mouthfuls Arno had then refused to eat what he’d chosen, deciding he no longer liked the taste but Venelia handled his contrary attitude with practiced ease. When Diana had returned and Venelia wished to move to sit at another table herself for a moment Arno had insisted on going with her and had not left Venelia’s side since. 

And while Diana has flitted around the room it has not gone unnoticed by Philippus or Hippolyta that their daughter can barely take her eyes off her lover. Hippolyta is already sure the two of them have designs on building their own house near to the Palace, another daughter leaving their nest though at least one of their grandchildren will remain close to them as Diana and Venelia would never venture far from the Capitol. 

On the next table over from Philippus, Deianeira is sat with a few amazons from Abila, introducing Wolf to her close friends who will soon have the little prince growing up amongst them. Philippus is watching Wolf chew on a damp cloth Deianeira holds for him, trying to sooth his teething pains when Otrera bounds over to them.

“Deianeira I’m afraid I have to relieve you of the baby. I need as much time as possible with Wolf before you take him away.”

Deianeira is more than happy to hand him over to her friend and Wolf instantly recognises Otrera as one of his favourite people and fusses excitedly, flapping his chubby arms. When she takes hold of his waist and pulls him close to her chest Wolf’s hands land on her cheeks. “Come on pup, let’s go play with the warriors.”

Philippus’ gaze follows Otrera as she carries her grandson over to Egeria, Trigona and Evandre. Giesela is also stood with the group; the adolescent looks far more grown up than when she had arrived on the island, especially so in the armour Antiope had commissioned for her. She has already shot up in height and seems to be growing taller almost every day; Menalippe had been telling Philippus how the strapping of the armour had to be adjusted twice while it was being crafted and Philippus is greatly looking forward to the day she can tease her sister in law over being shorter than her own daughter. If Philippus focuses on the prospect of tormenting Antiope it might distract her from the melancholy of thinking how it seems like no time at all since Diana and Evandre had been little girls and in a blink had grown into young women.

Across the room there is a sudden commotion. While some of the warriors enjoy a good tussle on the beach after a few jugs of wine none would dare cause such a ruckus in the Palace and certainly not under Hippolyta’s eye. It takes some searching through the crowd of people but Philippus finally catches sight of the source and it is rather a surprise to find it is Ilse seemingly throwing a tantrum worthy of Evandre as an infant. She and Hippolyta have spent a number of evenings with Nushaba and Timandra and such an outburst is so unlike the girl’s usual behaviour; it is more what they have come to expect from Arno when he is overtired.

For Timandra the screaming had come out of nowhere. She and Euryleia had been discussing the move to Thessaly with Ilse sat beside them on the end of the long bench. Timandra had assumed when Ilse hadn’t answered Euryleia’s question of what she was looking forward to the most about living in Thessaly that as usual the girl was distracted by any number of the things going on around her. But when the other woman gently touched Ilse’s shoulder to get her attention her daughter let out a piercing cry as if scolded by boiling water. 

Trying to sooth the girl only seemed to make the crying worse as she tried to push herself away from Timandra and the other concerned women around them to curl up into a ball on the bench, almost sinking under the table. All Timandra could ascertain was that her daughter was not physically hurt though she worried even that might become a possibility if she did not do something to alleviate the situation. Making a quick decision Timandra braved the flailing limbs and clawing nails to haul Ilse into her arms and take her from the hall, not an easy task with Ilse’s long legs continuing to kick out.

Outside Timandra sets Ilse on her feet and takes hold of the girl’s shoulders waiting for her to calm herself enough to talk. Ilse is still struggling in Timandra’s grasp, shouting what sounds like nonsense through gasping breaths with hot tears streaming down her red cheeks when Nushaba joins them in the corridor.

Timandra gives up trying to get any reason out of the girl just yet and simply keeps the steady pressure of her hands on Ilse’s shoulders, hoping that the touch may help ground her but at the very least stop the child from hurting herself. Aside from that Timandra keeps herself away from Ilse’s body, not wanting to make things any worse for Ilse and also not wanting to add to the bruises she has already gained. All she can do is wait for exhaustion to take hold and soon enough the fire inside Ilse sputters out to sniffles, her arms go slack, her eyes grow heavy and Timandra supports Ilse as she sinks to the floor. 

With Ilse allowing Timandra to pull her closer the woman wants nothing more than to smother her daughter in a crushing protective hug but she holds back to allow Nushaba who has conjured up a cloth from somewhere to gently coax Ilse to stand up on her own and wipe her face. They both kneel on the ground in front of the girl, their faces at her eye level though Ilse does not meet either of their gazes.

“You need to tell us what is in your head not just on your lips Ilse.” Timandra isn’t sure if Ilse even heard Nushaba’s words as she remains staring at the floor even as Nushaba lifts her face gently and brushes the cloth over her last tears. “It is okay to be scared or sad or angry.”

Mumbling quietly Ilse confesses, “I don’t want to think about the bad things.” 

With utter sincerity Nushaba tells her, “I know.” Then she pulls Ilse into her arms, holding the girl against her chest and stroking her red hair. “But pretending doesn’t make things go away.”

Sad green eyes peek up from Nushaba’s shoulder at Timandra and the woman tries to give her best reassuring smile. Ilse is limp against Nushaba so her wife picks the girl up and carries her to the padded bench a little further up the hall. They sit and Ilse’s eyes close as she lays her warm cheek against the bare skin above the neckline of Nushaba’s dress. 

Timandra brushes a finger up the bridge of Ilse’s freckled nose and her eyelids flutter open. “If the bad things stay in your head we can’t do anything to stop them from hurting you can we?”

Just as had happened with Nushaba, once the dam she’d built herself had been broken the words come rushing from Ilse. They are hurried and confused and certainly she and Nushaba would have to take time to make sense of things for themselves and for their daughter but that will happen later. For this moment at least the weight of her secrets seems lifted from Ilse. It had been hot in the hall, and crowded and loud and not at all like running through the busy market which she loved so much. They sat by one of the fireplaces and even though it wasn’t lit the smell of the ashes on the stone chimney grew stronger and thicker and Ilse was sure she was back somewhere else. A place she didn’t want to be. Around her men were laughing, but not happy laughing, it was mean and jagged and they had smelled of stale cigarette smoke and beer. And when Euryleia had touched her arm Ilse had got muddled somewhere between there and here. 

Nushaba rocks Ilse slightly back and forth while she talks and when she is done strokes her hand over Ilse’s hair, fingers catching in the curls that had come loose in the earlier struggle. Where Ilse lies against Nushaba she cannot see what Timandra can, the pools of tears in her wife’s eyes that she blinks away in case they fall onto their daughter’s head. After a while Timandra asks, “Do you want to go home?” which she honestly believes would be the wisest decision but Ilse shakes her head, as well as she can pressed up against Nushaba. 

Timandra can’t help but chuckle a little. “Then shall we go back inside?”

Ilse immediately buries her face in Nushaba’s neck. When she mumbles something Nushaba gently pries the girl back from her and asks her to repeat what she’d said. “They’ll all think I’m a baby.”

Timandra kneels down beside the girl and takes hold of her hands. “They won’t. I promise you. They might be concerned you were upset but I think if you go in there and everyone sees your lovely smile they will know you are feeling a lot better.” 

Ilse’s eyes flick over to Nushaba who nods in agreement but the girl doesn’t seem entirely convinced; that is until Nushaba whispers to her conspiratorially. “Do you know how many times we have all seem Evandre and Diana screaming and crying? No one will think badly of you.” And a tiny watery smile appears on Ilse’s lips.

Ilse takes hold of both their hands as they walk back down the hallway but at the doors Ilse draws a sharp breathe and Nushaba immediately picks her up. Hefting the girl onto her hip Nushaba assures her, “We will sit with Hippolyta where is not crowded. And if you want to come back out you just have to tell me.”

Back in the hall Hippolyta lets out a relieved sigh when her friends bring a much calmer Ilse back into the hall. When they sit with her she considers asking if everything is alright but Timandra simply gives a slight shake of her head and the Queen knows the matter can wait. Instead she picks up a single melomakarona from the small platter of the small egg shaped desserts in front of her and holds it out to Ilse. 

“Evandre was after these but I was sure to save some just for you.”

With a weak but genuine smile Ilse takes the sticky treat from Hippolyta’s fingers. Sensing it would be best to give the family some space to adjust back to the rhythm of the party Hippolyta shuffles a little closer to Venelia who had come to sit her and turns her attention back to watching Arno dance with Diana. Mostly he just jumps about on the spot as other amazons move around him but he is enjoying himself immensely. After spinning around a little too fast and having to be steadied by Diana he comes racing over to their table, stumbling a little with dizziness.

When he is close enough to hear Hippolyta’s slightly raised voice she scolds, “No running inside Arno.”

“Sorry Gramma.” Grandmother is an awfully big word for such a little boy at the moment and her concession to being called Grandma seems to have somehow ended up as this instead.

“Nelia come.” The boy stops at Venelia’s knee and tugs at the woman’s hands until she stands from her chair.

“Apologies my Queen it appears I am being summoned.” Venelia allows Arno to pull her across the floor to Diana and Hippolyta watches her daughter take the older woman in her arms and draw her close as they sway to the slower rhythm. When Arno decides he wants to be included they make space for him to tuck in between them, his arms reaching up and hands grabbing small fistfuls of Venelia’s dress at her hips.

Venelia’s vacated seat does not remain empty for long as Giesela drops down beside Hippolyta. The girl picks up an abandoned cup and gives its contents a sniff; she almost has the cup to her lips before the Queen reaches over and takes the wine from her. When Hippolyta doesn’t get any kind of mischievous response to her action she shifts in her seat and takes a moment to regard the girl. Giesela seems preoccupied and nervous, her leg jitters against the table and she is chewing on her bottom lip. Hippolyta doesn’t have to say anything, she merely gives Giesela a look and the girl immediately frees her bruised lip from her teeth. 

“My Queen.” Giesela tilts her head forward a little and lowers her eyes.

“Giesela, how many times must I say you can call me Hippolyta? I am your Aunt now.” Far too many times Hippolyta thinks but there is now a familiar back and forth that follows when they start out on their walks through the gardens or when they leave for a horse ride; soon enough Giesela will always call her by name but has yet to call her aunt. This time Giesela’s furrowed brow only deepens and she says nothing. Antiope is across the hall with Artemis and Menalippe is nearby but chatting with some women from Masis leaving Hippolyta to deal with the mystery of Giesela’s current mood alone. 

Her sister has shared with her some details of nightmares and struggles in school but despite the time Hippolyta has spent alone with Giesela the girl has yet to truly open up to her. Their conversations are mostly one sided with Hippolyta answering Giesela’s concise but numerous questions about the island and their history, what the world was like for the Amazons before Themyscira and how they built their new lives here. Hippolyta had come to learn Giesela was really asking the questions about herself by framing them around other people; how to let go of an old life, how to move on from pain and anger, how to remember what was left behind. Giving Giesela the time to think what she wants to say, and perhaps how to articulate it in a language that is still not quite her own, Hippolyta picks up her own cup of wine and takes a slow drink. Giesela gives Hippolyta a quick side glance then gazes out at the dancing amazons as she asks, “If something had happened to you, when Diana was little, would you want her to have another mother?”

It is hardly difficult to work out that Giesela is really thinking of her own mother, struggling with guilt and uncertainty over her new life and the growing feelings for the family that have welcomed her. And Hippolyta is the only mother Giesela knows of on Themyscira who has carried a child in her belly.

“Even if I sat in the comfort of the Elysian Fields I would be thinking of Diana, always. I would want nothing more than to know someone would take her hand and lead her safely through life, hold her if she cried, share every smile and every laugh.”

Hippolyta reaches for Giesela, a palm on her cheek nudging the girl into turning her head from the women she is not really watching and she see tears in those dark blue eyes. On this occasion Hippolyta does not play along with Giesela in pretending the conversation isn’t about the girl, “I promise your mother would want the same for you.” 

Surprisingly Giesela does not shy away, holding Hippolyta’s gaze a moment then whispering, “I don’t know what I am supposed to call them.”

Hippolyta cannot hold back the urge to stroke Giesela’s cheek and the girl leans into the comforting touch closing her eyes. “Antiope and Menalippe will love you no matter what you call them. Just as Philippus loves Diana. Love is not conditional on a word, Giesela.”

Utterly out of character Giesela launches from her chair to wrap her arms around Hippolyta’s neck. The Queen hears the hurried ‘thank you’ against her ear then Giesela sits back a little red faced.

Hours later when the candles above them in the chandeliers have burned down, the music stops and the women start to leave for their own homes or the places they are staying it is startling that all three girls are still wide awake. The boys had not faired quite as well; Evandre had left to put the baby down some time ago and Arno slept through much of the final hours of the party dead to the world sprawled on Venelia’s lap. With the hall almost empty Diana notices Giesela, Ilse and Astrid all at the main table conspiring in whispers. The last time she had seen them like that the three had decided they were going to come to Themyscira. She walks across to them and as she nears Ilse hisses at the other two to hush them and they all smile at her far from innocently. 

“What is it this time?”

Giesela is the spokesperson again but her pleas are for their parents this time, “Could we stay with Ilse tonight?” 

Antiope, Menalippe and Epione all look to Nushaba and Timandra. The discussion is brief; they seem to all realise there is not much of tonight left, in fact it is already only a few hours before sunrise but no one had intended on travel until the late morning so they all agree to the girls’ demands.

A few of the palace rooms have been taken by guests and the corridors echo with the hushed voices of whispered goodnights or muffled laughter at wrong turns or stumbles. The children are not much quieter, also being hushed from making too much noise or told not to rush off too far ahead as the group leave the Palace. After clearing the courtyard and the main gates Menalippe and Antiope decide to take a more indirect route home to walk with everyone through the city streets and even stay a while at Timandra’s townhouse to allow the girls to settle down. 

From the kitchen the giggles, the pattering of small feet between rooms and the thuds of pillows presumably being thrown at each other gradually fade while cups of black tea are passed around the women in the hopes it might negate some of the effects of the wine once they wake in the morning. When Epione, Antiope and Menalippe do decide it is time to leave for their own beds they first duck into the bedroom to check on the children and find all three girls fast asleep. Giesela is on the far side of the bed with one arm outside of the blankets protectively reaching over the other two girls, Ilse and Astrid lie beside her clinging to each other like new-born kittens. The mothers can only hope that even apart, scattered across the island, their daughters will know this same peace.


	4. No Longer Ache For Home

A pitiful cry from Wolf’s room wakes Deianeira instantly but it takes her a moment to shake off sleep to recognise it is not a cry of pain or fear from her son, just that he has woken and wants the attention of his mothers. Stumbling from the bed with a lot less urgency than she had felt waking, Deianeira leaves Evandre grumbling sleepily and pulling the blanket up over her head. It is not yet dawn but with a clear sky overnight the bright moon and a scattering of stars shed some light through the un-shuttered bedroom window. Deianeira’s first few steps are hesitant until her eyes adjust to the dimness of the hallway and she can see Fen laying across the doorway outside their son’s room. As Deianeira approaches the shepherd dog lazily lifts her head from her front paws to eye the amazon but when Wolf gives another wail of ‘mama’ the animal’s ears lift up and she gets to her feet, circling Deianeira’s legs. 

Wolf is already out of his bed but the little boy seems uncertain what he should do now, one hand clenched around a corner of his bedding and the other rubbing at his eyes. She, Evandre and Diana had taken their best guess at the ages and birthdays of both the boys with Wolf’s first passing only a few months ago and he has grown so much it is hard to reconcile the little man before her with the sleeping babe Deianeira first saw swaddled in a basket. In fact he is so big it is now impossible to cradle Wolf in her arms to rock him back to sleep so instead Deianeira scoops him off his feet and carries him to the chair beside his small bed. Holding her son close to her chest she reaches down to pull the blanket that had fallen to the floor up over them both. Fen pads over to the chair and turns a couple of circles at Deianeira’s feet before settling down too.

To say Deianeira had not been impressed when Evandre returned from visiting Aegea with a dog trailing at her heels would be an understatement. Deianeira’s perfectly rational questioning of what possible use they could make of a dog whose innate skill was herding goats that wandered the hillsides was met with Evandre’s insistence that the animal would help them with Wolf. Deianeira wasn’t sure whether to despair or laugh at the suggestion. Infuriatingly Evandre had been proven right when Wolf had started crawling and the dog’s natural instincts kicked in. Fen then spent most of her daytimes rounding up her herd of one and guiding Wolf back to where he was meant to be. And of course Evandre had been insufferably smug about the outcome.

Deianeira is kept from falling back to sleep in the chair by Wolf’s drowsy murmurs against her chest. He has just began to string his words together in a meaningful fashion, frequently including his favourite ‘no’, yet still cheerfully holds unintelligible conversations with himself as he toddles around the house or when he is sleepy. Stroking the thick curls that Wolf’s downy hair has grown into Deianeira softly tells him, “You need to go back to sleep baby. What will your Grandmother say when she hears about you waking us like this?”

Her quiet humming and the light rocking of the chair finally quiet her son’s sleepy chatter and then his thumb finds its way to his mouth instead. For a little while more Wolf stares up at her blinking sleepily but finally he cannot fight any longer and his eyes fall closed allowing Deianeira to gently pull his thumb free of his lips. She is just thinking the boy may be deep enough asleep to get him back into bed when Evandre stumbles through the doorway in the darkness and both Wolf and Fen wake with little whines.

Her partner’s apologies are unnecessarily whispered when everyone is now awake. “Your turn Artist,” she tells Evandre.

Deianeira stands stepping around the dog to relinquish the rocking chair and letting Evandre take their son from her arms. She knows she should go back to bed and get some proper rest before their guests arrive later but instead Deianeira leans against the door frame, unable to tear herself away from watching Evandre singing softly and out of tune to the boy.

It seems only yesterday Deianeira was marvelling that she had ever lived her life without Evandre, that their home had been without her terrible singing, its walls undecorated with painted flowers, every free surface not given over to scattered parchments, ink stains or charcoal and paintbrushes. Now the singing was joined by their little boy’s giggles and first words, small sticky handprints joined the flowers on the walls and she and Evandre were constantly trying to pick up a whirlwind of mess that followed Wolf around the house.

On returning to Abila they had spent a few hectic days attempting to adjust their once familiar daily routines around Wolf’s needs and their new man of the house had proved to be somewhat demanding. Fortunately there turned out to be no end of volunteers to help care for the boy, in fact most of the women in Abila vied for the opportunity even when he was miserable and cranky. Deianeira would often strap Wolf to her for the ride when she needed to be out on the plains but if it was stormy and wet then he would usually be sat on Hiera’s knee in the bakery where they waited for bread to rise in front of the warmth of the clay oven. If Wolf became fussy while with Evandre in Council meetings then Areto would take him to sit out in the square. The older woman seemed to have a gift of knowing whatever was causing distress and swiftly setting it right. Once she had changed him into a clean cloth or fed him a bowl of mashed pears or simply hushed him until his tears dried, she would bounce the boy on her lap and together they would watch their little world pass by.

By the time Wolf is back in bed the sun is just breaking the horizon, its hazy light crawling across the plains, and neither Deianeira nor Evandre feel like going back to their own bed. Instead Deianeira gets started on some of her morning chores and lights the fire beneath the water tank. Not waiting for a bath Evandre merely splashes herself with cold water and puts on what looks suspiciously like her hunting clothes. 

At Deianeira’s scowl Evandre hastens to defend herself, “Cynna spotted a herd of deer in the forest yesterday afternoon. If I’m lucky they won’t have moved on yet.” Evandre creeps forward as she’s talking, cautiously reaching her arms around Deianeira’s waist and pulling their bodies together. “And if I leave now I will be back before my parents arrive.”

Her explanation along with the offer of a slow deep kiss appease Deianeira enough to let her partner go and Evandre quickly grabs her hunting bag and bow from the wall beside the front door. Fen who had been sat beside Deianeira’s leg enjoying the warmth of the growing flames against her muzzle turns her head up. Already much better trained than Evandre the dog gives Deianeira a questioning glance as if to ask if she can go outside too.

Deianeira gives the dog a quick scratch behind her ear and tells her, “Go on then.” 

Before Evandre can even get through the front door Fen pushes past her legs and races off toward the paddocks. Evandre lets the dog run off her morning energy and take care of her business while she retrieves Leto from the stable. To stop the other horses getting overexcited in their eagerness to be taken out Evandre leads Leto back out to the main path at the front gate of their property before checking the saddle bags are secure, the breast collar fits snug against the animal and the reins are in place. She is strapping her bow to Leto’s saddle when Fen, who has returned from her wander, lifts her head from sniffling along the garden wall and bounds to the road giving a bark. 

Glancing down the hill herself Evandre can see a group of amazons on horseback approaching. Philippus rides as vanguard of the group, something she did even if she and Hippolyta were just out riding to the beach. Behind comes Hippolyta on her silver white stallion and keeping pace with her is Giesela on her horse Freyja. The light is still dim but Evandre is certain it is Orithyia and Aella at the back of the entourage who at the bottom of the hill break off and head toward the town. With the Guards’ escort duties over her mother would no doubt have ordered the pair to go and enjoy themselves for a few days until the return ride to the Capitol.

“Deianeira,” Evandre calls out, loud enough to be sure she is heard from the gate back to the house. 

Quickly Deianeira appears from the kitchen door hissing at her, “Artist, I swear if you wake that boy again…”

Cringing Evandre immediately clamps her mouth shut but Deianeira still slaps her arm lightly as she reaches the gate. When Fen gives an excited little bark it earns her a tap on the nose and the dog immediately drops to the dirt beside them, no longer barking but unable to control the furiously wagging tail. 

The remaining three horses slow at the crest of the hill and then trot up to the garden wall where Leto gives the animals a welcoming neigh. When Deianeira barely acknowledges the sound both Evandre and Fen give her a betrayed look that the horse should get special treatment over them. 

“We thought we would be waking you arriving so early,” Hippolyta tells them as she drops from her saddle.

Taking the reins from Hippolyta’s hands and throwing Evandre what the younger amazon thinks is frankly an unwarranted dirty look, Deianeira tells her, “Oh, your grandson woke us hours ago.” 

As if to emphasise the point Deianeira then yawns, covering her mouth with her forearm. Hippolyta catches Deianeira’s head and kisses her forehead, the gesture bringing a tired smile to the younger woman’s lips. “He is back under his covers and should sleep a little longer. There is fresh bread in the kitchen and the water should be heated for baths. I’ll be in once I have the horses settled.”

The ride from the Capitol is not much more than a couple of hours but given they must have left in the dark Evandre doubts her mothers or Giesela have eaten yet and all three of them are covered in a fine layer of dirt kicked up from the roads. Surely Evandre thinks she cannot be considered a bad host if she heads out now and leaves them to refresh and recover from their journey. Her optimism though is shattered by her mother’s immediate appraisal of Evandre’s choice of outfit and the prepared horse. 

“Going somewhere Evandre?”

Evandre welcomes her mother with a kiss in the hopes she won’t have to answer but as she pulls away Hippolyta takes hold of her by the forearm. “I will only be a few hours, Mother. And I’ll be back with dinner.”

Giesela is still sat on top of her horse waiting for Philippus to come stand beside Freyja to help the girl to the ground as she slides from the saddle. On hearing Evandre is planning to go hunting though Giesela ignores Philippus’ hand on her thigh and begs to be allowed to go along too.

“You promised you would take me hunting while I was here. I have my bow.”

It may be Evandre’s home and her hunt but she knows her aunts had entrusted Giesela’s care to her parents and so she wisely choses to leave the decision to them.

“It has been a long ride Giesela,” Philippus tries to dissuade her but even as she’s speaking Giesela pleads again with a dragged out ‘please’ and Evandre grins knowing the battle is almost over. Sure enough they relent and as Evandre climbs into her saddle Hippolyta fusses over the girl to make sure she has her cloak on securely and some food and water in her saddle bag. Evandre never had any doubt that Giesela would get what she wanted; just as her mothers spoiled their two grandsons, they doted on their only niece.

Deep in the forest it is difficult to judge the time without a clear view of the sun in the sky but the light cutting through the canopy above is now a bright white, casting shimmering stripes across the forest floor, leading Evandre to guess it must be past midday already. The hunt can’t go on for much longer without her mother sending a search party so Evandre thinks she will allow only a few minutes more for their luck to change before heading back to the horses when she spots new tracks in the undergrowth. Crouching slowly to inspect them Evandre catches sight of Giesela nearby copying her movement, waiting for a signal that tells her they are to move on. The landscape here is so similar to the forest in Prussia where she, Deianeira and Diana had found the children that Evandre expects to look over and see the lost, angry and frightened girl they had first met. Instead Evandre sees a young Amazon who has let go of her fury at the world that hurt her and instead chosen to embrace the family that found her.

With Giesela as her shadow Evandre creeps slowly through the undergrowth, both of them carful of where they place their feet to avoid the unexpected snap of a twig beneath a boot that would startle their prey. Evandre lifts her bow a little higher, ready to pull the string taut the moment she spots the deer she knows must be close by. Unlike Evandre’s competition bow which she keeps in immaculate condition her current bow shows the evidence of its heavy use, though she has done her best to disguise most of the wear marks and scratches with carved patterns across the arching wood. Giesela’s bow is much shorter and suited to her size but given how rapidly the girl is growing she may soon be handling a full size weapon. Evandre had taught Giesela how to care for the weapon when she had received it and the stunning dark figures of deer wrapping around the blonde wood still look as new as the day Evandre’s Papa had handed it to her when she was a child. Evandre had passed it on to Giesela for her to be able to start practicing archery while a bow of her own was crafted but Giesela had fallen in love with it as much as Evandre had. Well almost as much, Giesela had not to Evandre’s knowledge taken it to bed with her as she had. With a promise that Giesela would care for it so it could be passed on to Wolf in a few more years Evandre had gladly allowed the girl to keep guardianship of it.

As the pair push through thick undergrowth to reach the clearing ahead with a small pond Evandre gives Giesela a nod and they both take cover behind bushes. In no time a doe wanders close to take a drink and Evandre gives Giesela a slight nudge with her elbow, encouraging her to take a shot. Hours earlier they had barely gotten off of their horses when the girl had almost on instinct thrown one of the knives on her belt at a rabbit startled from bushes by their arrival. The animal was now strung by its feet to Freyja’s saddle but it hadn’t done much to boost her confidence after they had their bows out and Giesela missed the first stag they came across, allowing it to bolt away through the trees. Now Giesela seemed overcautious, apprehensive about missing again but Evandre was sure the girl would succeed this time.

Giesela has her arm pulled back and the string almost fully drawn when Evandre leans in close to her ear to tell her to adjust her grip.

Narrowing her eyes Giesela whispers back, “That’s not how Mother showed me.”

“Which one?” While Evandre could take Menalippe with a bow, her Aunt Antiope would have an arrow through her belly before her fingers even twitched on the string.

Giesela’s grin in response is a little too smug, having worked out exactly why Evandre wants clarification. “Antiope.”

“Fine, do it your way,” Evandre huffs. No doubt Giesela will report back to her own mothers and Evandre will be made to suffer the next time she attends the training grounds to refresh her skills. To make herself feel a little better about her looming fate Evandre nudges Giesela a little to try to put her off and realises she may be taking on far too many of Otrera’s mannerisms. When Giesela pokes her tongue out at her though Evandre thinks perhaps being the big sister could be a lot more fun than being the little one.

Evandre does quit her distractions before Giesela releases the string and the girl makes a clean shot through the animal’s chest as it lifts its head from the clear water. A little stunned by her own achievement Giesela is only stumbling to her feet after Evandre is already standing over the carcass. Recovering quickly though Giesela helps Evandre to haul the animal clear of the trees back to the horses. Evandre shows her how she should tie the deer so it remains secure across a horse’s back behind the saddle and then they both mount up.

From the forest’s edge and across the open plains where herds of wild horse roam it is not far to Abila and home. When the house appears on the horizon Evandre opens up the speed of the horses and Leto powers ahead even though the animal carries both Evandre and the deer. Giesela pushes Freyja to keep close to Leto’s hind quarters and both horses snort heavily, sweat already streaking their flanks. 

Giesela had been a nervous rider at first, surprising them all but not least Evandre and Diana who had both been fishing with Giesela a number of times where the girl had seemed utterly fearless being tossed around in a small boat by great waves. But riding out the temperamental sea had come a lot easier to Giesela than putting her trust in the very independent and very large animals.

Astrid who had been learning at the same time seemed to take to riding effortlessly, though she had oddly fallen in love with a wilful and unpredictable little pony that seemed to always be snorting in protest about something. For the girls’ lessons Menalippe had rotated Giesela through a few of the older and more stoic horses in the royal stables but Giesela had not truly relaxed on horseback until Deianeira had presented Freyja to her. Dappled grey with a dusty white mane, Freyja was smaller built than most horses but astonishingly strong. The mare was calm and slow at first, exactly what had been needed to calm Giesela’s nerves. As usual Deianeira had shown her gift with horses in choosing a perfect match and both animal and rider had only grown more confident together.

Evandre slows Leto down to a trot and then a walk as they approach the villa sure her mother would not approve of any recklessly fast riding and knowing sound of hooves crunching on the stony pathway would give away their speed. No one comes to meet them as they arrive at the house however so Evandre assumes her family are elsewhere on the estate. 

Giesela helps pull the carcass from across Leto’s wide hindquarters and Freyja sniffs curiously at the other horse once the dead animal is removed. There is a stone trough outside the garden wall and once Freyja’s inspection is done both horses wander over to it and begin to drink heavily. Preoccupied with carrying the deer Evandre leaves the two animals to wander and chomp at the weeds knowing Leto will be easily called back to her with a whistle and Freyja would not go far from her companion.

Giesela may have grown taller since she came to Themyscira but there is still a marked height difference between her and Evandre that puts them both at a disadvantage when carrying a shared load. She struggles a good few steps but just as she feels her grip on the hide slipping Philippus appears on the porch and Evandre calls her over to help. Giesela hands off her end to Philippus and then trails behind the pair to a stone slab table at the back of the courtyard where they will butcher the animal.

“Giesela, could you fetch my knives from the kitchen.” Evandre gives no further detail to her instructions so Giesela assumes the older woman had got them prepared earlier. Sure enough when she ducks her head through the kitchen door she spots a tied leather bundle on the counter and snatches it up. 

When Giesela returns placing the knives beside Evandre’s hand Philippus is in the middle of telling her where Hippolyta and Deianeira had disappeared to, apparently still in the stables along with Wolf seeing the new foals.

“This was a good clean kill Giesela. Antiope and Menalippe will be very proud of you.” The girl feels a little ridiculous that she can’t stop the blush warming her cheeks at the praise but Philippus slapping a hand to her shoulder in congratulations just as she would to Diana or Menalippe soon makes her forget any childish embarrassment. As Evandre unwraps the knives and starts to sharpen one to begin skinning the deer Giesela steps back but Philippus tuts at her. “Just where do you think you’re going?”

Giesela throws a hopeful glance toward a lounge chair in a sunny patch of the courtyard she had noticed. “To lie down?” Unfortunately Giesela has already learned that Philippus alone doesn’t give in to her quite as often or as easily as Hippolyta does and seems certain not to indulge her now. With one finger her aunt beckons Giesela back to her side as she and Evandre get to work. 

Hunting was not new to Giesela, she had accompanied her Grandfather and her Father on a number of trips and alone, to keep herself and the younger children fed, Giesela had caught rabbits in snares, a few wild birds and plenty of fish from the rivers and streams. Of course with no one else to look after them she had skinned, plucked and descaled the animals herself just as she had seen her grandfather do while in the forest or her mother over the kitchen sink. Ilse had squealed at the idea of getting her hands covered in blood and guts and Giesela had thought Astrid and Arno too young to handle the job or a knife, just as her mother had when she was their age; she can still remember the day her Grandfather had given her her own knife, not handing it over until she had promised not to tell her mother. He had spent that day showing her how to properly use it, his giant hand wrapped over hers on the hilt as they cut away the fur of a rabbit, telling her how to care for the weapon, how to respect it and what it could do.

In Themyscira up to now Giesela has only aided in dispatching a chicken, one of the hens who was causing a nuisance to the rest of the flock that Antiope had instead made into dinner. The smell of the deer as they open up its belly and begin butchering is definitely worse than a rabbit or fish guts but Giesela knows the result will be worth it. As Philippus carefully points to each place Giesela is to draw the knife that Evandre hands her she tells the girl what each piece of the meat will be good for, what organs need to be discarded, of all the ways the hide can be used. Her aunt makes sure she understands this single life will provide them with much and they need to be thankful for the gift it has given. 

When the task is done Evandre sloshes a bucket of hot soapy water across the table and then another of cold water that washes clean the stonework of the courtyard. Over the puddled mud that is left Philippus has Giesela hold out her hands and pours a smaller bucket over them to rinse off the gore. 

Finally Giesela gets to collapse onto the lounger and is almost asleep when she hears her Aunt Hippolyta and Deianeira returning with Wolf. She turns her head and through half lidded eyes watches Hippolyta holding Wolf’s hand as they walk, attempting to rein him in each time he tries to break free. Wolf is probably keen to run to Evandre and Philippus who are sat under the porch together, drinking the thick black coffee that is favoured on the island. But when Hippolyta does let him go Wolf comes running over to Giesela, throwing his arms over her stomach as he attempts to climb up onto the lounger and the girl. Giesela helps him up and he flops down on top of her, pushing his grinning face into hers before kissing her nose.

“Miss you.”

Giesela wraps her arm up around Wolf then almost crushes him in a tight hug that makes him giggle loudly. “I missed you too.”

Giving up on the idea of getting any more sleep in the sun Giesela keeps hold of the boy and rolls them both off the lounger. Wolf squeals for her to let him go but Giesela refuses to, promising tickles if he tries to get away and Fen comes running to his aid, circling around the pair of them barking excitedly. It doesn’t take long for Deianeira to step in to calm all three of them down, pointing Giesela to Wolf’s toy chest inside the house to find a more peaceful activity to occupy them until dinner is ready. 

At the mention of food Giesela’s stomach lets out a protesting rumble that she has neglected it today with little more than some flatbread and a few handfuls of nuts and dried fruit. Just the idea of the promised roasted deer with figs and sweet potatoes has Giesela’s mouth watering but when Evandre announces she will go get started with the cooking Giesela looks to the remaining adults incredulously, “Evandre?”

The memory of Evandre’s awful attempts at rabbit and fish stews while they were travelling to Themyscira are still vivid, and painful. But Deianeira lays her hands on Giesela’s shoulders and reassures her, “She is better in a kitchen than over a campfire.”

Evandre manages to sweet talk her mother into helping in the kitchen and Deianeira follows them into the house to return a short while later with refreshments. She lays jugs of water, wine and juice on the table where Philippus then draws up a battered old chair with flaking yellow paint. One leg of the chair is shorter than the other three and as Philippus reaches across the table to pour a cup of wine for herself and one for Deianeira the seat rocks on the stone floor. 

Deianeira pulls up a chair of her own and the two women watch Giesela across the courtyard playing with the baby. Philippus has to remind herself that Wolf is not much of a baby anymore, no longer reliant on his mothers and family every moment and bold enough to boss Giesela around. When the toddler isn’t telling the older girl what to do he is endeavouring to slip away from her and though Wolf is much slower on his feet than he was crawling on his knees Giesela keeps getting caught by surprise at how quickly he can move. 

When the two children settle in the shade of a tree Fen wanders lazy circles around them until eventually the dog works out that Giesela is trustworthy with her boy’s care and leaves the work to the young amazon instead. While Giesela and Wolf play with a set of chunky carved wooden horses the dog stretches out on the sun warmed stone of the courtyard, her tail occasionally thumping the ground as it swishes languidly back and forth.

After Wolf’s cavalry of Amazon’s defeat Giesela’s Roman legion he tires of the toy figures. Instead the boy looks over his shoulder and calls out, “Fen play.” Dropping a wooden horse to the floor Wolf totters speedily over to the dog but Giesela catches him before he can simply drop onto the poor animal.

Despite the girl’s efforts Wolf wiggles free of her hold and lays on top of the dog, at least a little more gently since Giesela has slowed him down somewhat. At the unexpected attention Fen only rolls onto her back leaving Wolf sprawled across her belly laughing.

When the antics seem like they might be getting out of hand Deianeira cautions her son lightly, “Wolf, be gentle with Fen,” 

Fen only whines happily at all the attention, Giesela ruffling her fur and Wolf’s arms wrapped around her neck. Philippus smiles over the top of her cup of wine as Deianeira sighs and allows Wolf and Giesela to continue to crawl over the utter pushover of a dog. 

When Deianeira turns back to her Philippus says, “We miss having you around the Palace.”

“I am sure it is quieter.” Wolf’s teeth had started to cut through his gums while they still lived in the Capitol and he had lived up to his name with the howling from the pain it caused him. Even rubbing soothing paste on his gums left him miserable and crying loudly much of the time.

“Not as much as you would think. Arno has grown much bolder in recent months, and when he and Astrid are together they are a terror. If our eyes are off them for a moment they will find trouble, usually in Larina’s kitchen.”

Philippus expects a laugh or a smile from Deianeira but the younger woman only nods absently. 

“Something is troubling you.” Before the horsewoman can attempt to deny the claim Philippus advises her, “You cannot fool me Deianeira.”

“It is nothing.” Philippus swirls the wine in her cup waiting patiently for Deianeira to open up. “We can discuss it some other time,” the younger amazon dismisses as Philippus takes a long swallow, never breaking eye contact with Deianeira.

“Fine,” she eventually says and then looks over to the children to ensure their attention is elsewhere. Fen is up playing now, crouching low on her front paws with her back arched and tail in the air as she waits for Giesela or Wolf to lunge at her. When they do the dog sprints to another spot in the courtyard and crouches down, beginning the game again. From the kitchen they can hear Hippolyta and Evandre banging around getting the dinner prepared, then Evandre exclaiming loudly ‘mother!’ to something Hippolyta has said.

Deianeira shuffles her chair a little closer and still looking at the floor confesses, “I want Evandre to marry me.” 

Immediately Philippus is beaming with pride, ready to congratulate Deianeira but the younger woman does not look up at her. Looking at Deianeira now is more like seeing Evandre or Diana admitting to having broken something precious in the Palace when they were girls than a woman in love and giddy with excitement.

Philippus takes Deianeira’s chin in her hand and lifts her head up. “And that should make you happy, should it not?”

“It does, I…” Her eyes screw up and she tries to lower her head again but Philippus tenses her arm not allowing Deianeira to slip away from her or the conversation just yet. Somewhat reluctantly the young amazon opens her eyes and lifts them to meet Philippus’. “I can’t ask her. What if she says no?”

“Deianeira…” Philippus drops her hand allowing the girl to duck her head. 

“I know,” Deianeira huffs out frustrated with herself. She raises her hands in front of her but can’t find whatever words she wanted to say and not quite knowing what she was trying to gesture drops them back into her lap. “It’s foolish.”

“It is not foolish. It’s natural to feel nervous.” 

“Were you?” Deianeira pauses a moment as though a sudden thought has come to her. “Did you ask Hippolyta or did she ask you?” 

“I like to let her think it was all her idea,” Philippus tells her with a wink.

Finally Deianeira lets out a laugh, the tension falling from her. Then she leans back in her chair, tilting her head back and gazing up at the sky as she takes a deep breath. Reaching for her knee Philippus gives it a reassuring squeeze. “When you ask her,” her emphasising the ‘when’ draws a wry smile from Deianeira, “I have no doubt she will say yes.”

One limb of the big oak tree reaches over the long table in the courtyard and at some time Evandre or Deianeira have strung small candle lanterns from it. On dark evenings their flames will add to the starlight on a clear night or illuminate a cloudy sky but for the moment their light is dimmed in the burnt orange glow of sunset. Hippolyta shoos Evandre to a seat at the table and carries the food they have prepared out from the kitchen herself. In the couple of trips it takes to handle all the dishes she saviours the time she gets to watch her family here around this table; Philippus settling their grandson into his high chair, Evandre shuffling cups of wine and plates around to clear space for the food they have to share and Deianeira indulging Giesela with undivided attention as she breathlessly recites every detail of the morning hunt. 

This is the kind of life Hippolyta had dreamt of when she lay in threadbare tents beside Antiope, in muddy fields waiting for another battle. She had no desire for the glories of war and leading her people had been a responsibility not an aspiration for praise or power. For her sisters and for herself Hippolyta had only wanted a home, a family. She had of course had Antiope by her side since her first day on the earth but Hippolyta had always found herself yearning for something more; after the gift of Diana she had gratefully accepted that with her baby and Themyscira she had received all the fortune the Gods could bestow. But then came Menalippe and Philippus, making her family stronger. Evandre, her joy. Then Deianeira, Wolf and Arno, Venelia; her blessings kept growing, flowering like forgotten scattered seeds in the spring.

After the main meal had been devoured Giesela clears the plates to the kitchen and Deianeira leaves the table to fetch the dessert. Giesela is back in her seat before the galaktoboureko hits the table, not wanting to miss out on the thick custard that had been flavoured with oranges and drizzled in syrup that she had eyed in the kitchen earlier. Hippolyta had taken Wolf onto her lap from his chair after he began to fuss and being in his grandmothers arms along with the promise of dessert had held off a tantrum at being confined to the table. When the galaktoboureko is placed in front of them however Wolf starts squirming in anticipation. Hippolyta scoops some of the treat up on a small spoon to offer it to him but before it can touch his lips Wolf clutches at the handle to take it to feed himself. Being no stranger to the messy habits of children, her own daughters far worse culprits than any of this generation of amazons, Hippolyta holds her open hand beneath the spoon prepared to catch any of the food that might go astray. Fortunately and perhaps unsurprising all of the custard makes it into Wolf’s mouth in a single go.

Across the table Deianeira offers her spoon to Evandre but when the younger amazon leans close Deianeira purposefully misses, smearing the dessert up the side of Evandre’s mouth. Laughing she wipes the smudge of sticky syrup away from Evandre’s cheek and then licks her own finger clean. 

Hippolyta rolls her eyes a little noticing just how captivated her daughter is watching Deianeira take care of the syrup on her fingers. When she is done Deianeira eyes Evandre a moment then announces, “I think I missed a spot.” Deianeira leans over, still holding the half full spoon in one hand over the table while the other presses on Evandre’s thigh and she plants her lips against her partner’s. 

For show Philippus growls a little in their direction and Hippolyta can’t really be sure if it is his grandpa or the kiss that causes Wolf to giggle and fall back against her gleefully but it certainly does make Deianeira’s smirk a little broader as she pulls away.

Giesela follows Philippus’ lead and rolls her eyes before glaring at Deianeira. “Ugh. Please don’t be loud tonight, my room is right next to yours.” Evandre who is sitting closest to the girl gives her a playful nudge with her elbow as she takes a proper spoonful of the galaktoboureko from the plate in front of her. Under her breath but certainly loud enough for them all to hear Giesela continues, “Antiope is always loud.” 

Evandre sputters, almost choking on the mouthful she had just taken and Giesela shakes her head as though trying to dislodge the image she’s conjured for herself. Hippolyta cannot help letting out a loud laugh, having shared far too many tents with Antiope to not be well aware of her sister’s habits.

As amusing as the conversation could turn everyone has to agree to stop discussing Antiope and Menalippe’s sex life, or anyone else’s, before Evandre dares take another bite but after that the dessert does not last long. When Evandre and Deianeira move inside to wash the dishes from dinner Hippolyta retrieves the petteia board from the living room and sets it up on the small circular table for two that sits closer to the house.

The night is warm with little wind but after Wolf’s sticky hands and face were cleaned Philippus had bundled him up in a blanket anyway. Hippolyta had tried to dissuade her love of being over protective but it was no use and Philippus took the already cosily wrapped one and a half year old to sit under the shelter of the porch. Hippolyta and Giesela lay out their game pieces in silence listening to Philippus around the corner of the house telling Wolf stories. When she starts the little boy interrupts constantly with questions or is unable to contain an excited squeal or gasp of alarm but soon it is just Philippus’ deep voice drifting through the night air. When the stories switch to the hums of a lullaby they assume Wolf is now sleeping or close to it. 

The game is a familiar one, with Hippolyta and Giesela often playing each other on the Palace balcony or sat to the side of Menalippe’s vegetable garden and most times Giesela decimates Hippolyta in just a few swift moves. Tonight though the girl seems to be shuffling her pieces around the board to avoid any confrontations that would bring the game to an end. It has been a long day for all of them and Giesela has not really stopped to rest since they left the Capitol early this morning so Hippolyta could put the unusual behaviour down to fatigue. But if that were the case Hippolyta is certain the girl would have already excused herself to bed. 

The Queen cannot ignore the fact that it is Giesela’s first night away from Mena and Antiope and though her sister and sister in law had seemed the more nervous about the impending trip Hippolyta knows Giesela excels at putting up a front on her emotions when she wishes to.

“Tonight may be difficult for you, your first night away from home.”

Giesela risks a quick glance up from the board at Hippolyta but then returns her attention to her move and slides her chosen pieces into position.

“If you have any bad dreams I want you to come…”

“I don’t have those anymore” Hippolyta knows the abrupt denial is mostly bravado as Menalippe had told her only last week of another restless night for Giesela.

“They do go away. But sometimes things will happen that bring them back. It did for Evandre and Diana. Philippus and I. Menalippe. Even Antiope.” As Hippolyta says each name she can see the flashes of disbelief in Giesela’s gaze. She so desperately wants to tell the girl she is not alone but holds her tongue for now to see where Giesela will take the conversation. They fall into silence again for a couple more moves then Giesela’s hand hovers over a game piece but she does not move it.

“Sometimes I see it all again. What they did to my mother. And I can’t make it stop. Over and over again and I can’t change what happened.”

“I have had similar dreams. Reliving the things I wish I had had control over in the past, or the things I want only to forget. It is never easy.” Giesela has dropped her hand to the side of the board and Hippolyta lays her own over her niece’s, stroking her thumb back and forth. “It helps to talk about them. I promise.”

The girl nods a little, maybe willing to accept she is not as weak and isolated as she fears. “Sometimes the dreams, they’re different. Not how it happened but they feel real. I don’t run fast enough and the men come after me or I don’t hide well enough and they find me.”

“And it does not matter that you know you are safe here.” Giesela lifts her head sharply to look at her, a little startled perhaps that Hippolyta would know that. The stars are all out now in the inky black sky above them and their white pin pricks of light shimmer in Giesela’s eyes.

As though a dam has burst Giesela’s words rush out in confession, “I had another nightmare last week. I didn’t tell Antiope or Menalippe about it. The men they came here and no one could stop them. Antiope was shouting at me to run just like my mother did and then...”

Giesela isn’t able to finish and rising from her chair Hippolyta kneels down beside her. “I am sorry you still have those dreams. I am more sorry that I cannot stop them from coming. But when you wake I will always be here for you.”

Giesela only nods, out of words again but there isn’t really a need for anymore for tonight at least. Hippolyta brushes a few strands of hair from Giesela’s forehead and kisses her softly. “We can finish our game in the morning. I am sure when you are less tired you will swiftly finish me off as usual.”

Allowing Giesela to discreetly wipe at her eyes, Hippolyta caps the torches on wall of the house and blows out the flames of the tree lanterns before they head inside. Philippus had brought Wolf in some time ago and walking past the boy’s bedroom they can hear his snuffled little snores into his pillow. Some light creeps out from under the door of the room Hippolyta will be sharing with her wife but all is dark and quiet from Evandre and Deianeira’s. Stopping outside Giesela’s door Hippolyta considers offering to come inside and help her settle in bed but knows the girl would only feel embarrassed and flustered by such attention from her aunt. Instead she says, “I want your word you will come and wake us if you need to.”

Before slipping into her room Giesela mutters, “I promise.”

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In Thessaly it had taken Ilse no time at all to settle in to her new home. She had also thrown herself into learning the intricacies of running the vineyard and in doing so was certain even in her sleep she could conjure up every patch of earth, vine leaf and oak barrel with accurate detail in her dreams. Even when she is racing up and down the rows of grapevines pretending to be charging toward a battle or flying along on the back of Pegasus Ilse is often the first to spot a wilting vine or any insects attacking the maturing fruit. 

Following the example set by Hippolyta when Ilse would walk along with the Queen and her mother to or from the Senate, the girl had been sure to learn the names of every woman who tended the vines and the few amazons in the village who did not spend their time on the vineyard. She had also, much to Timandra’s amusement, named all the wild cats that roamed the fields for rodents and often had a small pack following her around the estate.

Nestled in the centre of the island Thessaly’s weather is quite different from the Capitol that sits perched on the cliffs beside the ocean. Ilse had learned that early in Themyscira’s history the villages of this area had attracted amazons from some of the warmer original Greek cities like Karpathos and Rhodes, who felt more at home in its familiar climes. To deal with the heat many of the homes, workshops and stores here were single levelled with high cavernous ceilings Ilse had only seen before in churches and throughout the village many thick canopied trees had been carefully planted decades ago so they could now offer respite from the harsh sun. And then there was one of Ilse’s favourite things in Thessaly- the red bricked aqueduct weaving through the trees and buildings like a hand built stream, offering a refreshing drink or a quick splash of cool water on hands and faces whenever it might be needed. 

On the far side of the village from Ilse’s new home the gentle valley slopes climb up into mountains and the thick greens and yellow browns of the grasses give way to grey rock faces and sparse trees. Ilse was allowed to wander the lower slopes covered in wildflowers all day if she pleased, so long as she told her mothers where she was going. One day soon after she moved here Ilse had lost track of the time and only wandered home just before nightfall and her mothers had made it very clear that her expeditions were certainly not to happen after dark when the mountain lions would be prowling. She had had nightmares about being eaten by a mountain lion for three nights but she was certain to never stay out so late on her own again. 

Today though Ilse had very little desire for exploring after a morning filled with chores and instead had taken herself to one of the wine cellars where it was cool and quiet and she could hide away to write. Her favourite spot was in the largest cellar where she has appropriated a battered writing desk far enough away from the barrels and amphorae that she can keep a torch burning in its wall bracket and not affect the temperature of the wine. 

Mostly she writes letters to Astrid, chronicling all the tiny details of her days so that when they do get to next be in the same place as each other it will feel like they were never apart. Their letters travel between Thessaly and the Capitol with any amazon who may be passing that way. Some weeks there could be only a single letter stuffed into a trader’s saddle bag and another week a bundle of wax sealed parchments tied with string is packed onto a cart of wine barrels. Astrid sends short warm notes, sometimes embellished by Epione’s hand, but Ilse finds herself almost always filling pages and pages with words, accompanied by little drawings or flowers pressed into the paper.

Ilse also writes for herself; Timandra and Nushaba had given her a beautiful cloth bound journal they said was for her to write her thoughts in but the girl could not bring herself to ruin its beautiful clean pages. Instead she scratches a quill over scraps of parchment to let out any bad thoughts in her head. When she has finished writing she will scrunch the note into a pocket or fold it away in her satchel for the day and in the evening decide if what she wrote is only for herself or if she will share it with her mothers. Whichever she decides once Ilse has no need of the words anymore Timandra will let her put the notes into a fireplace and Ilse can watch them get eaten by the flames.

Currently she is scribbling out a note besides her drawing of the chubby tomcat she has named Anselm, trying not to smudge the black stripped legs or the leopard like spots across his back, when Thraso comes down the ramp beside the stone steps of the cellar. Well, the new barrel Thraso has made comes rolling down the ramp first followed by the amazon herself. The sound of the wooden planks and metal rims bumping across the stonework is a familiar one to Ilse now as Thraso is well into her preparations for the next harvest. 

Thraso gives the barrel a couple of shoves to roll it into the corner of the cellar and then sets it upright and shifts it against those already stored. Thraso is definitely one of Ilse’s favourite people; she tells Ilse all the best stories about the ancient lands of Greece and Thrace, Persia and Egypt where she had travelled to trade before the Amazons had been enslaved. Stories Ilse finds far more exciting than some of the actual school lessons she has with Zarina. And she likes that Thraso always calls her sunshine.

Turning back to the stairs the amazon notices Ilse tucked away in the corner of the cellar. “Hiding down here again, Liakáda. Your mothers were looking for you.” 

“Mama’s back!” Ilse exclaims happily, already stuffing parchment into her satchel so she can run back up to the house. The satchel is much like the one Giesela carried with her almost everywhere. Ilse had described it to Myrine who works leather into clothing and bags and the woman had made Ilse one of her very own, dyed a forest green and embossed with leaf patterns. 

Timandra had promised she would bring back a letter from Astrid when she returned from Senate sessions in the Capitol and honestly in this moment Ilse isn’t sure which she is most excited about, seeing her mother after a week away or hearing from her best friend. 

The desk is cleared of her things before Thraso gets the chance to finish telling her, “She is back. They were at the house when I saw them last.” 

Yelling out a thankyou Ilse runs up the stone steps ignoring Thraso’s warnings for her to slow down and bolts out of the cellar into the early afternoon sunshine. The girl sprints through the large open yard, past a number of stone storage sheds and then skids through the gravel at the entrance to the villa. She only slows her pace enough so that should Nushaba see her running through the house she has time to stop and not get in trouble. Ilse heads for the main living area knowing it is where Timandra will always drop her travel bags and collapse onto a couch for a while before she deals with anything waiting for her in Thessaly. 

If Nushaba is not at work in the vineyards then she will be welcoming her wife home. The welcome is usually only with kisses if they are still in the living room so Ilse doesn’t have to worry about running in on them. The times she has wandered into a room before to find them in any kind of romantic embrace only convinces Ilse more that her mothers are a real life fairy-tale prince and princess in a worn old book or shiny romance on a movie screen and seeing them happy makes her smile and feel warm in her belly. 

So if there is kissing Ilse will let them finish and when they are done then Timandra will grab Ilse in a tight hug like she might never let go and pull the girl up onto the couch with her. And Ilse will lie on top of her mama and ask her all about what happened in the Capitol.

Ilse’s soft leather sandals slide on the marble floor as she pulls to an abrupt halt in the doorway of the living area, stunned not to find her mothers kissing but the two of them sat around the low table along with Epione and Astrid.

Nushaba has her back to her daughter’s arrival but Ilse makes her presence known when she lets out an ear piercing scream of what Nushaba hopes is delight and not pain. In a blur Ilse is past Nushaba’s seat which is nearest the doorway, past Timandra who is cheerfully unsurprised at being ignored by their daughter in favour of their guests, and is up on the couch practically in Astrid’s lap hugging her. 

Ilse bursts with questions for her friend on their surprise appearance: when did she arrive, how long had she known they were coming, why did she not write, how long can they stay? At the same time Astrid is just as rapidly telling Ilse about planning to visit, keeping the secret despite her excitement and their journey to the vineyard. How either of them can make any sense of what the other is saying when they are both talking over each other is a mystery. 

Sat beside them Epione leans away from the squirming bundle of now giggling breathless girls. Utterly deadpan the healer says, “Hello Ilse.”

The redhead pulls back from Astrid grinning and looks at the woman. “Hello Epione.” Then she throws her arms back around Astrid’s neck and tugs her close again. 

While watching the two of them is undeniably endearing Nushaba finally insists on the return of a little decorum. “Ilse would you please climb off Astrid now.” 

To turn herself around Ilse swings her leg over as though dismounting a horse and settles instead beside Astrid. The couch is long enough to sit four adults and Epione takes up barely any of the space herself but still Ilse and Astrid sit pressed against each other. It has been a few months since Nushaba last saw both of the girl’s together, staying home to tend the vineyards when Timandra had taken Ilse on visits to the Capitol. It still does not seem like Astrid will ever catch up to Ilse’s height but she is much stockier than the skinny sickly child they had first met who appeared as though she might break at the slightest touch. 

Much like Epione the younger girl is immaculately turned out, hair sleek and tied into a perfect braid down her back, the linen of her tunic and trousers crisp without a crease or mark of dirt. Her own daughter however wears a crumpled dress Nushaba is sure she had seen discarded on Ilse’s floor just this morning; and even though the outfit was something Ilse had changed into after her chores this morning were completed she has already managed to attract grass and ink stains to it. The girl’s fiery red hair as always refuses to be tamed by the leather strap tying it back and loose curls fall around her face. 

After Ilse eventually remembers Timandra is also in the room and welcomes her mother home they all sit drinking black tea and share the news from the Capitol. There is the usual run of gossip about the personal lives of the many women they know closely; Diana and Venelia finally ready to move from the Palace and building a new home, Penthesilea’s latest foray in the ongoing prank war between her and Otrera, the winners and losers of Artemis’ wrestling tournament. Astrid proudly announces she too has taken up the sport after watching the competition unfold, telling them all with a shy smile that Artemis says she has a natural talent and may even grow to beat her one day. 

“But I need to grow a lot before that happens,” Astrid says matter of factly, with a little nod of her head.

“Wrestling?” Nushaba looks to Epione while doing her best to hold in a disbelieving laugh. Epione’s eyes are cast toward the ceiling and she shakes her head in obvious resignation to her daughter’s new interest.

As Ilse has Astrid distracted with questions about wrestling Epione leans over the table to tell Nushaba, “For the moment the only person Astrid can practice on is Arno. And the boy has very little patience or desire to wrestle.” Nushaba can just imagine the still often quiet but now forthright Astrid insisting on the little Prince who used to hide behind his mother’s leg fight her. 

When the two small glasses of tea the girls were drinking are both empty Nushaba suggests Ilse show Astrid around their home and the two scurry off holding hands. The house is much larger than the townhouse in the Capitol that Timandra keeps and the heart of the villa is undoubtedly the central courtyard with its mosaic stone floor and scattering of peach trees with benches or cushion piles beneath them. The trees each stand in their own little patch of earth with a raised border to the tiles but the roots stretch out under the floor and in places break through, pushing up through the mosaic patterns. A square pond with a fountain is set in the one corner of the courtyard that spends much of the day in the shadows cast as the sun moves across the sky overhead. There are no fish to disturb, just cool spring water that Ilse can splash in whenever she fancies. 

The rooms themselves are arranged around the courtyard with a balcony running all along the second floor looking down over it. Though for most of the season it might seem far too large a space for their small family (Nushaba, Timandra and Ilse along with Thraso, Kallie, Maia and Eriboea) come harvest their home is filled with guests offering extra hands. Ilse has her own bedroom but also an adjoining space Nushaba had intended as a playroom but their daughter seems to have turned into a small study, informing them it was just like Timandra’s at the Senate. The room is also the girl’s classroom when Zarina tutors her, though they sometimes take lessons sat in the courtyard or wandering over the hillsides. Every room of the house has high ceilings and tiled floors to keep them cool and there are no heavy wooden doors here either, only light curtains hung in the doorways for privacy that allow the air to circulate and the heat to rise through the central courtyard.

The sound of the girls talking and laughing can be heard in the living area from almost everywhere they wander in the house and Nushaba thinks it is close to the most beautiful music she has heard within these walls. While she could happily listen to just that Nushaba does turn her attention to her remaining guest and she is pleased to hear directly from Epione, not merely through letters or her wife, that Astrid is thriving just as Ilse is. The youngest girl’s schooling is going well, the once shy child now helps Shirin in the apothecary when Epione must tend to other duties and Astrid has begun learning to play a number of instruments. 

With a deep sigh but a genuine smile Epione says, “I have forgotten what peace and quiet is.”

As if summoned by those words the girls come hurtling into the room with Ilse barking out, “Can we go play?”

Nushaba simply looks at Ilse with a raised eyebrow. 

“Please?” She adds quickly rocking up on her toes. 

The vintner glances at the other two women and they all smile at the idea of a few hours of peaceful adult time. 

“Of course,” Timandra tells them and Ilse gives her a quick kiss on the cheek before tugging Astrid out of the room.

“Do not wander too far. Stay in the vineyard for today,” Nushaba yells after them though she suspects Ilse will take Astrid out to the edge of the mountain slopes and later claim she had not heard her mother’s request. 

WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW

Finishing her duty shift Venelia heads for the Guards’ barracks annexed to the Palace where she still has a bed and keeps a chest of clothing and personal items. The large space is divided by low partition walls into individual living areas, each with a bed, clothes chest, a writing table and chair and a few shelves. The barracks could house up to twenty women but the number of occupants usually fluctuated around a dozen. Most faces came and went, new guards from outside of the Capitol yet to find their own home when others left to become shepherds, architects, farmers or fishmongers. And sometimes a Guard banished from a lover’s bed would take an empty one among her sisters until she was forgiven. 

A few amazons remained permanent features of the barracks, those who simply enjoyed living in a group as Venelia did though it was not just the soldiers, there were homes all over Themyscira where amazons did not just live with a partner but with their sisters. Venelia had never actually lived alone; her first home before the Amazon’s had been enslaved by Man had been similar to this barracks and then she had been a concubine in Athens, kept with other slaves. 

Despite her time in Athens Venelia had always enjoyed living with a group of women. She liked having her sisters around her, falling asleep at night hearing the snoring or murmuring close by in the darkness and knowing they would be there when she woke. Lately though the Lieutenant had been finding that it was also nice to sleep in a room so quiet she could hear only the familiar beating of Diana’s heart beside her ear as she lay her head on her lover’s chest.

Venelia had started this morning’s shift earlier than she usually would, eager to ensure everything ran smoothly while Philippus was away. She had given some Guards additional duties outside of the Palace while their Queen in Abila, organising a group to help repair a wall in the olive groves just outside the city and selected a large rotation to send to Antiope to refresh their training. But now Venelia had handed over to Egeria and would happily not think about her work again until tomorrow.

Stepping inside the building Venelia immediately notices Palla and Melo standing in her own cubicle. The door’s rattle as it closes behind her causes both women to spin around to check the new arrival. Certainly one thing some women never got used to in the barracks was the startling lack of privacy such as finding two of your fellow Guards rummaging through your personal affects, but Venelia had always felt anything that was hers she would share with her sisters. Though for fun she would sometimes hide a fake snake woven out of knotted rope amongst her clothes as a surprise for Aella who far too often borrowed her dresses and failed to return them.

“Venelia, where is your book of Sappho’s poetry?” Palla asks, dropping the blanket she had lifted from the bed to check under. Why in the name of the Gods Palla thought Venelia would keep it in her bed was beyond her reasoning. As Venelia walks over to them Palla continues to explain the ransacking of her compartment, “Melo is seeing Hypsepyle tonight and as you have no further need of poetry to entice a woman to your bed I thought she could make use of it.”

Melo blushes bright red and elbows Palla as Venelia pulls the book from the shelf above her bed. She tosses the book to Melo who fumbles it slightly before clutching it to her chest. With her most serious Lieutenant expression Venelia stares at the pair of them and says, “There is always a need for poetry.” Then directly to Melo with a lecherous grin she adds, “You are lucky that I have the best lines memorized. You should save a good one to whisper in Hypsepyle’s ear right when she…”

“No, no, no,” Melo spins on her heels and marches away from the pair towards the doors. Above Venelia and Palla’s laughter she calls back, “I do not need to know. I will manage just fine, thank you.”

Dropping down onto her bed Venelia starts unlacing her boots. “We should probably not tease her so.”

“Hypsepyle is besotted with her, she would listen to Melo recite the complete Iliad without pause if it gives her reason to simply sit and gaze at her.”

With her task completed Palla leaves Venelia in peace to remove her metal greaves, gauntlets and breast plat. The amazon is glad to replace the somewhat unforgiving ceremonial attire for more comfortable clothing but sifting through her trunk Venelia finds there is not all that much to choose from. Gradually her clothing has been finding its way to Diana’s own wardrobe in her Palace rooms where Venelia had been spending as many evenings as she could with Diana and Arno. Those evenings had gradually grown later and later until Venelia rarely spent a night in her own bed anymore. 

When Venelia thought of home now it was inevitably those two bedrooms and the living area that made up Diana’s private quarters. It was where she would play games with Arno that helped him learn to read and count, read him stories, tried to get their stubborn little Prince to cooperate with bedtime or bath time. It was also where she had time alone with Diana once they had laid Arno to sleep; testing just how quiet Diana can be with Venelia’s mouth on her or how inventive they can both get whilst still remaining reasonably clothed should the little boy wake and come looking to share their bed.

But this newfound home she and Diana both knew could not be theirs forever; they required a more practical home that offered space and privacy for their young family. After they braved telling Hippolyta and Philippus of their decision to leave the Palace and receiving their blessing, which Diana would not consider moving without, the couple had sat down with Melousa to design their own home. Finally they had settled on an empty patch of land just a walk from the Palace, wild and overgrown, to become the foundation for their new life together. 

Since the new moon Melousa had been bringing images from drafting paper to life with stone and brick and wood as she began the construction of the house with small team of craftswomen. There would be a modest courtyard where both Venelia and Diana would have enough room to exercise and train. Two rooms would flank either side of the courtyard; a kitchen and storeroom on the east side of the plot, dining room and weapons store on the west. A second story would run across the north portion of the house with the bedrooms, washrooms and a spacious living area. The balcony from their own bedroom would overlook the courtyard and the direction of the sunrise.

Melousa’s team had already raised most of first floor and Diana would often tell her of the day’s progress after days she would help with the build. When Venelia walked past the site herself on the way to or from the schoolroom with Arno they saw the walls growing higher each time, their future home taking shape. 

For a while after Wolf and Ilse had moved away Arno had grown insecure and needy. Diana had told Venelia of Arno’s clinginess with her when they travelled back to Themyscira and she had thought it not too different from his hesitance and shyness around new people but having the little boy constantly gripping hers or Diana’s hands for days as if he would lose them was heart-breaking. He refused to leave their sides and would stay with one of them all day and sleep between them at night. He would cry even if they tried to leave him with his grandmothers. 

While Venelia and Diana grew more concerned with his behaviour Hippolyta had reassured them it would pass and sure enough one morning Arno had cheerfully ran into Philippus’ arms and waved Venelia and Diana off after breakfast barely lifting his eyes from the strawberries he was eating as they kissed him goodbye. 

That already seems like another lifetime ago. Just yesterday afternoon Arno had been running ahead of Venelia up the hill, racing away and then looping back toward her before taking off ahead again. He had been doing the same all the way from the schoolroom down through the city streets, along the bridges and now past the small cluster of houses by the orange groves. Losing sight of Venelia behind carts or tall buildings or market stalls Arno had not seemed concerned at all, certain that she would be following right behind him. 

By the houses Arno came skipping back to her and when Venelia held out her hand to him he took it. Up to her hip in height now he rested his head against it. Venelia had pointed to the foundations of the new building as they approached. “Whose house will that be Arno?”

He tilted his head to grin up at her. “Mine.” And then he was off again, sprinting up the lane toward the house.

Laughing Venelia had called after him, “Just yours? No-one else will live with you?”

Spinning in a circle he sang out, “Me and Mama and Papa.”

She had taken Arno home and once Diana returned from the training grounds Venelia had ventured into town for promised and long overdue drinks with Penthesilea and Egeria. The three of them were sat out front of Pen’s house when Melousa had found Venelia asking for a moment of her time. Nervously the other woman had told Venelia she was pleased to be building their home, honoured that they asked but that there was a slight problem with the project. 

“If you need more help I’m sure we could…” 

“Less help actually,” Melousa interrupted.

It had taken a moment for Venelia to realise what Melousa was asking but she had realised long before the builder launched her apologetic explanation that the Princess’ over eagerness and her questionable skills in this area were proving to be wearing on the other amazons.

Venelia had promised she would speak with Diana but after dragging herself back to their bed in the early hours a little worse for wear and then up again in what seemed like a ridiculously short time later to begin duties Venelia had not had the chance until now.

Finished changing Venelia made her way to the house, knowing Diana had enthusiastically left this morning keen to practice her masonry skills. Arriving at the site Venelia can see Diana scrapping mortar into the layers of stone of what will be a wall of their dining room. Before she reaches her partner Venelia passes Melousa who gives her a pleading but contrite look before discreetly directing her workers away to the other side of the courtyard ostensibly to work on the future kitchen. 

Venelia can see instantly the difference in the work of the professionals and that of Diana’s hand and if only to ensure a wall doesn’t come down on their child at some point in the future Venelia steels herself to her task.

She calls out her lovers name and Diana turns with a brilliant smile instantly spreading across her face. “I thought you would be busy all day.”

“Apparently with the right motivation I can be very efficient.”

Diana drops her trowel into a bucket at her feet and wipes her hands on her trousers. “And what might that motivation be?”

Venelia draws closer to her partner, stalking like a lynx. “I realised that Arno is with Larina and she will not expect either of us to come for him for a few more hours yet. I can do a lot in a few hours.”

A little flustered Diana looks over at her companions then back at her lover. “Venelia, I have commitments here.”

“I can make it worth your while.” Venelia has reached Diana now and takes her hand, dragging the other woman around a corner into the mostly finished weapons store. One wall is not as high as the rest and when Venelia pushes Diana against it the stonework stops just at shoulder height so Venelia can easily reach both her hands behind Diana’s head, knot her fingers in Diana’s hair and urgently pull her close for a forceful kiss. Their lips do not part until they are both gasping for air.

Delighted but confused by the visit Diana manages to say, “As pleasant as your distractions are, I should get back to work.”

Venelia’s hands have dropped from Diana’s hair to her shoulders and Diana lifts them away, kissing both knuckles before she goes back to the unfinished dining room wall. The Princess picks up the trowel and Venelia watches mortar drip off it before she can get it to the wall. Shaking her head in disbelief Venelia glances over at Melousa doing the same task, the flick of her wrist that lifts the mortar from the bucket and onto the wall looks as effortless to Melousa as Diana handling a weapon and yet it is obviously a trick her lover has been unable to master. 

With her first, well only, plan thwarted Venelia decides there is no use for subtlety or even a little devious distraction. She will just have to go with the bold and direct approach and to do so she plants herself directly in front of Diana. 

“My love you have been blessed by the Gods in many…” Venelia loses her focus a moment as she runs her hands down the exposed flesh of Diana’s stomach, “…many ways. But architecture and construction are not among those blessings. Please let Melousa do her work in peace.”

Grace and humility are of course two of Diana’s gifts and once Venelia’s words sink in she immediately hands the trowel over to Melousa apologising for disrupting the excellent work the architect and her team are doing.

Diana then allows Venelia to drag her away from the house. They end up in a meadow of wildflowers close to the training grounds and finding themselves alone there had been a little kissing and a lot of promises of all the things they would do to each other once they had a home and a bed truly of their own. Though Diana is certain at least a few of those suggestions they would not wait to do. 

In the sweet grasses Diana lays on her back with her head resting in Venelia’s lap while the blonde tucks flowers into her dark hair. Pinks, purples, blues and yellows, she can feel the soft stems against her scalp and tucked in behind her ear. As Venelia leans over her now untied hair falls above Diana’s face and the younger woman lifts her arm to gently bat away the strands that tickle her nose.

“Stop distracting me,” Venelia grumbles. The tip of her tongue peeks out between her lips as she concentrates on stringing a few flower stems together to make a chain. Diana thinks it makes her look adorable, though Venelia would of course hate to hear herself being described that way. Dashing, charming, suave, but not adorable. Diana has noticed lately that Arno has picked up Venelia’s habit, catching him with his nose scrunching up and tongue licking at his bottom lip when he studies his spelling or numbers. Her little man just like his Papa.

Diana lowers her arm and folds her hands across her stomach. Abruptly she feels the need to explain herself and the days she had spent inserting herself into Melousa’s work. “I wanted to be able to say I had some part in building our home.”

Venelia bends down and presses her lips to Diana’s forehead. “We already have our home. Home isn’t the stone walls of a house, it is what we feel for each other. That is what you had a part in building.”

And Diana gazes up at her then as though she is seeing Venelia for the first time. The wind is quiet, birds twitter softly and Diana breathes, “I love you.” 

Her voice seemed so loud in her head but at the same time Diana wonders if Venelia heard her at all, her expression never changing. It is the first time Diana has ever declared such a thing to any lover, not just to Venelia, though she had only meant it, felt it, with one other. Diana had never taken the chance with Steve, had bitten her lip from saying those words during their night in Veld when his hands had ran over her body, his lips tasted her skin. And then there had been no time to ever say them. 

Now they spill from her mouth in earnest desperation, pleading with Venelia to believe her. The woman who every day wakes Diana with those words, will gasp them over and over when Diana buries her fingers in her, whispers them carelessly in Diana’s ear when she passes a plate at the table, kisses them into Diana’s mouth like giving her air to breathe. 

Venelia’s gaze drifts from Diana’s lips up to her eyes as she places the crown of flowers gently on her head. “Oh I never had any doubt.”


	5. A Life The Gods Have Blessed

Even before their boat bumps against the side of the dock Cordelia is calling out to the women on shore for an update on the other fishing crews and shouting out instructions while names and numbers fly back at her. Even though Giesela has spent quite a bit of time now around the fisherwomen of Themyscira the faster paced interactions remain mostly indecipherable to her but Cordelia takes it all in and nods her head approvingly. 

The harbour master is tall, taller than even Menalippe, and has to fold herself up in the smaller boats of the fleet but that doesn’t take away from her towering presence or authority. Standing at the prow of any of the boats the amazon looks like a figurehead of an old ship, wild red hair always worn loose blowing around her like seaweed in an ocean current. 

Glancing around Giesela takes a quick count of the boats already moored and can tell their vessel is one of the last of the fleet back; the few that are absent are possibly still off the reefs close by. Before Cordelia has need to shout at her to do so Giesela starts hauling up baskets of sardeles to hand over to the porters and Adea clambers out beside her with the rope in hand to tie up the boat. 

Back in Prussia Giesela had known a Syrian family, the father a doctor and the little girl Yasmin only a year younger than her; her mother had had Yasmin over after school sometimes before the war had broken out and the family moved away. Adea shares many similar features to Yasmin, the coal black hair with eyes just as dark and high cheek bones. Giesela had found herself wondering when they first met if the little girl she had once known would grow up to look like the amazon, if she had grown up at all. Yasmin had been shy and quiet though and Adea was neither of those things, always with a smirk on her face as though she knew something Giesela didn’t. But there was also a glint in her eye that kept you believing she might perhaps share her secret with you.

At the end of the dock their catch joins the others, packed up into crates of ice and salt to be sent up to the Palace and the Capitol’s market or to the fishmongers in other cities and villages across the island whose traders would have been vying in Cordelia’s office all morning for the best fish and sea creatures that day. 

Giesela had been out on the water before the sun had even risen so though it was barely past midday her work was almost done, with only one task left. Leaning back over the side of the boat from on the dock she gathers the bundle of nets from the floor and hoists them into her arms. Barely able to see around them Giesela manages to dodge the women in her path back to shore and dumps the mass of rope on the ground beside some empty crates outside of the trade building then sets to work untangling them.

Giesela had been pleased to learn her first summer on Themyscira that for the longer and hotter months of the season there was no school, a practise going back to when Diana was a child. But Menalippe and Antiope insisted Giesela keep herself busy regardless, beginning with additional warrior training. Giesela couldn’t really complain, both Astrid and Arno were similarly treated having this year began rudimentary weapons lessons along with their wrestling. They were only using wooden swords for the moment as they were still only seven and five but Arno was greatly enjoying having an upper hand for once with Astrid as he was much better at handling the weapon. Giesela suspected Venelia and Diana were providing additional tutoring to Antiope’s training regime but honestly the kid needed all the help he could get against Astrid. 

Being so used to beating Arno at wrestling his newfound prowess frustrated Astrid no end; and when frustrated she simply ploughed into Arno and took him to the ground. While Giesela and Artemis were highly entertained by the tactic, Antiope was not. 

Alongside warrior training Astrid’s music lessons continued regardless of their break from the school room and Arno flitted between helping Pentasila tend the Palace gardens, lending a hand clearing out the stables, assisting Larina in the kitchens and even accompanying Hippolyta to the Senate. 

Both the younger children were told what they would be doing by their mothers but at fifteen now Giesela had been allowed to choose for herself. Dashing the hopes of her mothers that she would spend more time with them Giesela had not wanted to take on more weapons training and instead asked if she could help at the harbour. Fortunately Cordelia had been enthusiastic about the proposition. 

When Giesela had time to herself she often spent it at the harbour and after hanging around long enough Cordelia and the other amazons working there had begun to give her small jobs to do. She had never been allowed to leave the harbour’s waters though, aside from leisure boat trips often with Diana or Venelia. For the summer break Antiope had grudgingly given permission for Giesela to join the crews of some of the smaller vessels and now the girl was out on the water almost every day. 

The amazon fleet harboured at the Capitol was made up almost entirely of fishing vessels; the majority were small row boats that could fit a crew of four along with wicker cages to catch lobsters and crabs. Then there were the larger six to eight crew boats with tall masts and sails that could drag nets along the ocean floor. Giesela’s favourites were by far the two person boats that could easily manoeuvre around the reefs and close to the shores which were used for spear fishing. Her first time out on these Giesela had proven the worth of Menalippe’s lessons with the weapon and now the chalk board in the Cordelia’s office that kept a tally of each woman’s catch bore Giesela’s name in the lead for spear fishing. At the new moon the fisherwomen would celebrate their wins and then start the friendly rivalry over again. Giesela was sure her name would not remain at the top by the end of the month so had not mentioned it to Antiope or Menalippe but every time she caught sight of it while she worked the girl felt a swell of pride in herself. 

Giesela is about halfway through checking the net for breaks and untying knots when Ilse arrives. The younger girl is still out of her sight when Giesela hears her approach, specifically Ilse calling out greetings to every amazon she passes on her way through the docks. Giesela can’t help but marvel that despite not having lived in the city for almost two years now Ilse still knows every woman by sight. Finally the nine year old skips into view around the side of the building, breaking into a brilliant smile when she spots Giesela.

As Ilse prattles on about hunting across the city for Giesela before she was pointed to the harbour she settles herself on the crate beside the older girl. Ilse had arrived from Thessaly the previous evening with Nushaba, the pair of them intended to stay for the next couple of weeks to spend time with Timandra but their arrival was settled on so they would be ready for tomorrow’s wedding celebrations. 

As is typical of Ilse when she finds a new interest her conversations leave room for little else, overcome by her excitement to share. While Giesela works she is treated to Ilse pondering the rituals and traditions of Amazon weddings, throwing questions at Giesela constantly though rarely giving the older girl a chance to even contemplate an answer before her train of thought leads her elsewhere.

“I don’t know Ilse,” Giesela grinds out between clenched teeth after about the fiftieth question as she struggles with a particularly stubborn knot. The older girl is on verge of just getting out her knife and then dealing with the repair of the net after when she snaps, “I will go with you to the library to find the answers to all your questions if you promise to just keep quiet for two minutes.” 

Ilse’s green eyes grow wide with eagerness at the idea of dragging Giesela to the library. Giesela would hate to admit even to herself that she might be offering because it would make the younger girl extremely happy, instead she tells herself that Nushaba will be sorting the wine for the celebrations and no doubt Timandra will be helping Hippolyta in some way prepare so surely the least she can do is keep Ilse occupied a while. 

As she works the rope free of the tight knot Giesela finds it more than a little satisfying to watch Ilse struggle to stay silent. The redhead shoves her hands beneath her thighs and swings her legs out from the crate and back in an attempt to distract herself, her mouth screwing up as she sucks in her bottom lip to stop any words escaping. 

The moment Giesela achieves her task she looks to Ilse and takes pity on the younger girl. “You can breathe now Ilse,” she chuckles. 

Ilse gives a massive relieved sigh and with utter sincerity tells Giesela, “That was hard!” 

Still laughing Giesela shepherds Ilse from their seats, leaving the net in the storage container beside the office. Gripping the edge of the window frame the older girl pulls herself up a little to lean into the room. The Harbour Master’s desk is currently not occupied by the Harbour Master herself but by Adea, who is tipped back in the chair with her eyes closed, legs stretched out and feet up on the desktop. Through the open doorway Giesela can see Cordelia distracted from the misuse of her office as she deals with something in the main room. 

“I’m finished Cordelia. I’ll see you at the wedding tomorrow,” Giesela shouts out, startling Adea awake. The woman scrambles to pull her feet off the desk and climb out of the chair before she is reprimanded by Cordelia. Giesela grins in triumph and Ilse giggles beside her as Cordelia throws a dismissive wave in their direction without turning. Adea gives Giesela a nod in acknowledgement that she has managed to catch her out on this occasions but the girl is sure there will be payback at some point for her tease. 

The path up from the shore that she and Ilse take is the same route they had been led on when they first arrived in Themyscira. The city around them, Giesela’s home, is far less intimidating now but it has not diminished in its beauty. Every building looks like something from a fine art painting or a piece of art itself sculpted from marble. Even in their mild winters the flowers that colour the city always seem to be in bloom but in summer they are as vivid and bright as fresh paint. 

It is still early in the afternoon so the air is filled with the aromas of midday meals and Giesela’s stomach grumbles in response. Knowing Ilse will keep her trapped in the library for a while Giesela decides on a detour through the market place that will take them past Marpesia’s where she can grab something to eat before indulging Ilse. 

As Marpesia slides an armload of plates onto the table in front of a group of women she notices Ilse and Giesela’s arrival. Dropping another plate in front of an amazon sat on her own the cook lifts her chin toward some empty seats saying, “Girls, sit, sit.” 

They take a seat on a bench by the kitchen’s open double doors and Giesela’s stomach growls louder. Marpesia has help today, Koia stands at the back of the kitchen slicing from a joint of meat held on an iron spit over a fire pit. There are no roaring flames just brightly glowing coals so the joint has probably been turning slowly over the heat all morning in preparation for the lunchtime crowd. 

Marpesia being the accomplished host she is spots Giesela’s longing gaze. “Koia, bring some lamb and pitta for the girls please.”

While they wait for the food Marpesia takes a moment to catch up with Ilse, asking her about the goings-on in Thessaly and how the young amazon is doing in her studies. When visiting the Capitol Ilse often sets herself at one of Marpesia’s tables for a morning to simply chat with the women who come and go, being fed an endless supply of pastries. Marpesia sees Giesela enough days to not require such a detailed account of her activities; she also knows well enough that Giesela prefers to sit in quiet unlike Ilse. The woman does note though that Giesela is in her clothes for fishing and asks about the day’s catch. 

“I will have to send Koia down to fetch something once the midday rush has finished.” Giesela can already see Marpesia running through recipes in her head for the evening meals she can offer with the fresh fish. Giesela has spent a number of evenings eating down here when Menalippe or Antiope do not wish to cook themselves and they dine out as a family or if both her mothers are kept late with their duties and she has to fend for herself. And she would much rather sit amongst her friends and neighbours enjoying Marpesia’s food than attempt to throw something together herself and sit alone at home. 

Koia has brought the food over and Giesela folds a piece of the lamb in the bread and dips it into an olive oil flavoured with red chillies. Around her mouthful she tells Marpesia, “I already put some sardeles aside for you. Adea said she would bring it up when she’s done”

Rising from her seat a little to lean across the table Marpesia kisses the top of Giesela’s head in gratitude. 

When she asks what they have planned to do with the rest of their day Ilse chirps out, “We’re going to the library. I want to find out all about Amazon weddings before tomorrow.”

Marpesia has been almost as eager for the impending wedding as Ilse, Giesela had heard her gushing with excitement over anyone who mentioned it for weeks now. The first time Giesela had witnessed Marpesia’s enthusiasm she had been sharing a meal with Adea who whispered to her that the other woman was like that over every wedding. When Giesela had innocently mentioned perhaps Diana and Venelia might be next to marry though it had only earned the pair of them a growl. It wasn’t until she had mentioned the incident to Diana and Venelia one evening that Giesela had found out (around Venelia’s laughter) that Marpesia disapproved highly of the Lieutenant. 

“What was your wedding like Marpesia?” Ilse asks.

The older amazon smiles dreamily as though she can see the day as clear as if it were yesterday. “Clio insisted the prayers be made in the library. She said the Gods would hear us just as well from there as a temple.” Giesela liked that idea, being in a place you loved the most with the person you love the most. 

With the lamb finished the girls get up to leave and Marpesia stands to go back to her kitchen or, more likely with Koia on hand, to sit with another table for a while. There are always bowls of olives and a basket of bread set out on the tables and Giesela grabs a handful of the green olives as she leaves. Gathering their empty plates up Marpesia warns her, “Make sure you finish those before you get there or Clio won’t even let you through the door of her library.”

Giesela tosses an olive into the air then tips back her head and catches it in her mouth. “Let’s hope so.” When Ilse looks at her aghast Giesela tells her, “I’m only joking.”

It is not much further to walk to the library set just off a quiet square away from the bustle of the market place. In lessons they had learned all about the library in Alexandria but Giesela thought their own library was far grander than the drawings they had seen. For a start it was built straddling one of the Capitol’s many waterfalls, Alexandria certainly didn’t have that.

The minute they step inside and close the door they leave the heat of the afternoon outside. Before them stretch rows of bookcases that spiral out from the large atrium at the centre of the library, all at different heights so you can catch glimpses of the far corners of the building and their hidden treasures. Ladders reach up the shelves that in some places are almost three stories high, holding leather cases with leaves of paper, scrolls stacked on top of each other and bound books. And through the glass ceiling you can see the waterfall tumbling down behind the building, the mist of water droplets in the air catching sparkles of sunlight and flashes of rainbows in the blue sky. 

Ilse calls out for Clio who appears from the maze of bookcases carrying a stack of books, their cloth bindings in all different colours creating a rainbow of her own in her arms. Peering round the side of the stack that sways precariously above her head height the librarian weaves to her desk and gently sets them down. “I know Giesela has no school assignments so what brings you both here?” With a smile just for the younger girl she adds, “Merely Ilse’s curiosity?”

With her usual eagerness Ilse launches into telling Clio all about wedding ceremonies from across the different lands amazons once lived that she has learned about from Zarina’s lessons, Greece and Egypt, Rome and Syria. Knowing Clio has a vast knowledge that surpasses almost every woman on the island Giesela assumes she is not hearing anything new but she indulges the girl nonetheless. While Clio allows Ilse to ramble on Giesela wanders along the nearest shelves scanning the titles embossed into spines and the paper tags hanging from the ends of scrolls. 

Finally Giesela grumbles at Ilse, “If you know so much, why are we here?”

Clio gives Giesela a soft tut and tells Ilse, “Pay no attention to her child. There is no such thing as too much knowledge.” Ilse follows that up by poking her tongue out at Giesela. 

Clio’s laughter is musical but soft, as though she doesn’t want to make too much noise and disturb the books or anyone who might be hidden amongst them. She points the girls to the section that houses a collection of volumes on the history of Amazon marriages in Themyscira and Man’s World, a detailed catalogue of how their people’s customs have developed over the years, and then returns to her own work.

While Ilse is occupied reading about tributes to the Gods Giesela returns to absently scanning the book titles until she sees a one she recognises. On a break one day at the training grounds Giesela had been sat alone and without intending to had overheard a conversation between Otrera and Penthesilea. In rather a lot of detail Penthesilea had been reminiscing over her various encounters with men before Themyscira, names Giesela found familiar from books of mythology; Heracles, Jason, Odysseus. Not only did Otrera scoff at Penthesilea’s claim of a liaison with Odysseus (though she had conceded the first two) the archer good naturedly teased her companion about obviously not having studied thoroughly or put into practice the ‘Treatises on Bodily Pleasure’. 

As the conversation turned more colourful than Giesela was prepared for the girl had scrambled to her feet to see if Menalippe was ready to go back to sparring, unsure if she wanted to hear any more of the conversation. That afternoon however she had found herself wondering more and more about what the treatises contained. 

Her mother had always been purposefully vague about sex, brushing off any questions Giesela had in a fluster. But of course girls at school whispered things to each other and Giesela had at least gained enough of a grasp of rudimentary biology to not feel completely foolish. 

None of those juvenile or innocent whispers though had prepared her for the brutal reality that sex could be used as a weapon against women. And after what had happened to her mother at the hands of the Russian soldiers it had been easy for Giesela to decide she would never allow a man to touch her. 

She nor any of her classmates had ever considered, at least out loud, that there might be an alternative. But then she had met Deianeira and Evandre and the way they spoke to each other and the looks they shared had sparked a curiosity in Giesela that made her wonder how the pair might be more than simply friends. Very quickly in their journey across Europe, even without them giving any obvious signs such as kissing or holding hands, Giesela had become convinced that Evandre and Deianeira held romantic feelings for each other. Not until their final boat journey had the women discussed their relationship and what was the norm for Amazons, with Giesela and the girls readily accepting that two women could love each other. 

Now Giesela shared a home with a happily married couple and their steady and devoted relationship had done much to ease the painful memories that cast a shadow over everything else she remembered of home. While she certainly could do without hearing barely muffled cries of just how amazing Menalippe might be in bed through the walls, Giesela did find a new sense of security in her mothers’ casual touching of hands as they passed each other in the garden, or their light kisses as they sat in front of the fireplace wrapped up in each other’s arms. Their love revived the happier memories of her Mother and Father before the war, dancing in their small kitchen to the crackly wireless or kissing goodbye on the doorstep before work. 

Running her finger lightly over the wording printed on the book’s spine Giesela picks up the volume. She had only intended to casually leaf through the pages but almost an hour later when Ilse cheerfully skipped through the nearest aisle to pick out something new to read, Giesela found herself still engrossed in the words. So much so that she didn’t notice Ilse creeping up so close to her, startling Giesela when she asks loudly, “What are you reading?”

Snapping the book shut Giesela is sure to hold her hands over the title on the spine as she presses the front cover to her chest. “Nothing.” 

Ilse’s eyebrows scrunch up, wise enough to know Giesela is lying to her. Before she can ask again though Giesela tells her, “Something you’re too young to read. Are you done?”

Ilse nods and races off through the stacks back to Clio’s desk and Giesela slips the book back in its place before following after her. Ilse is already thanking Clio for allowing her to borrow one of the books and promising to return it as soon as possible. Turning her attention to the older girl the librarian asks, “Did you find anything interesting?” 

Giesela blushes furiously as Clio continues to stare at her. She was certain Clio had not been nearby to see what she had been reading but then again she had not noticed Ilse’s arrival and Clio moved much more quietly through the stacks. Or perhaps there is something about Giesela now that signals to the woman exactly what she has read. And will it be just as obvious to Menalippe and Antiope?

“No, nothing,” Giesela manages to squeak out. 

Just before they leave Clio holds the door open for them and offers, “Giesela, if you have a question about any of the books you can always ask me. If perhaps you do not wish to ask your mothers” 

Giesela gives a polite little nod and ushers Ilse outside into the square. Ilse gives her a quizzical glance as they walk and asks, “What were you reading that you wouldn’t want to ask Menalippe or Antiope about?”

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Arno stood on a wooden a stool beside one of the large sinks in the Palace kitchens. Either the legs on the stool were different lengths or the terracotta tiles were uneven because if he stood with his feet apart wide enough he could make it rock back and forth. This made swishing the plates from their morning meal through the soapy water a little more enjoyable. At his own home Arno didn’t have to wash up, he’d dropped a cup once and his Papa decided there were plenty of other jobs he could do that wouldn’t be quite as likely to lead to smashes. But this morning his family had shared breakfast with his grandmothers and Evandre, Deianeira and Wolf in the courtyard of the Palace so when they had all hurried off with things to do for the wedding tomorrow Arno had been sent off to the kitchen for morning chores. 

He’d grumbled just a little over Wolf not having to do washing up; being only two and a half meant there were a lot of things Wolf didn’t have to do yet, like go to school. “It’s not fair,” he tried once more as his Papa walked with him to the kitchens on her way to started her duty shift. 

“You may be a Prince but that does not mean everyone will do everything for you Arno.” 

He knows that is how the island works, everyone helps each other. But this job he found particularly uninteresting. “Maybe just the washing up?” he asked hopefully. That at least earnt a chuckle from Venelia to go along with the gentle swat at his backside that sent him hopping into the kitchen. 

“Join Wolf in the gardens with Pentasila when you are done. Be good,” his Papa told him before she continued down the corridor.

Arno finishes the last plate and careful not to let it slip from his fingers holds it out of the water for Hypsepyle to take. Each time the woman takes a clean plate from him she gives it another rinse in the basin before her. Arno doesn’t see why plates need cleaning twice, he’s pretty sure he does a perfectly fine job on them himself because Larina always tells him so and when he asks Hypsepyle she smiles at him and tells him she is simply fussy. He doesn’t really mind if she wants to clean dishes twice as long as he doesn’t have to. 

While his hands are still in the water Egeria comes into the kitchen, walking behind Arno and ruffling his hair. As a Guard like his Papa and Grandpa, Egeria isn’t often in the kitchens working but this morning she is one of the many amazons drafted into the wedding preparations. She kneels down beside the row of alcoves where cooking pots and spits will hang and begins to build up small pyres of kindling for the deer and wild pigs the hunting party had come back with yesterday. Arno had wanted desperately to go with them, he could ride a horse now and he didn’t need to shoot a bow and arrow yet, just watch but he had been told that he was still too little. 

Along with a couple of the carcasses already skinned the food preparation tables scattered around the cavernous room are crowded with bowls of spices and herbs as well as vegetables he did not like that were still to be chopped up. But what Arno was most interested in was the extra jars of honey and sugar and the little rolls of dough and pastry for sweet buns and pies that would be made this morning for tomorrow’s festivities.

Hypsepyle gets his attention back when she fishes the now double clean plate from her sink and rests it in the drying rack then blows the soap suds off her hand toward him. The fluffy white bubbles float like little clouds to land on his nose.

“All done. You can go play.”

Swiping away the bubbles with his sleeve Arno hops down off the stool landing on both feet. He skirts round the room dodging adults in his path to tell Larina he is going and is already running on past her to the kitchen door as she turns to thank him. When he passes Egeria building the dry wood pyre for a third fireplace he ruffles her hair as much as he can with it being laced back. She calls out ‘trouble’ after him but he’s already out the door someone holds open, giggling to himself as he goes.

Doing as his Papa told him Arno goes to find Wolf. The younger boy hasn’t ever visited for so long before and Arno has been having a lot of fun with him. All the children had gone swimming at the waterfalls with Epione and some other grownups, horse-riding with Deianeira and Evandre, and his Mama had even taken just the two boys camping one night. It was only in the orange grove behind their house but it had been the best adventure and they had slept under the stars after she told them stories of how each of the constellations had got into the sky. 

Since school had finished his Papa had been helping Arno to build a chariot; it wasn’t a real chariot like the ones at the races that were pulled by horses but it would hold himself or Astrid on a driver’s platform while the other lifted it with wheel barrow type arms and pulled it round. It was almost finished now and while Wolf hadn’t really been able to do much to help with the construction Deianeira had let him join Arno and Astrid in painting it and now their three handprints decorated above one of the wheel arches. 

Bursting onto the balcony Arno scanned the gardens for Wolf. He spent quite a lot of time playing in the gardens with Pentasila by himself and she would teach him all about the different plants and flowers and insects that crawled or flew around them, lessons which were much more fun than Mnemosyne’s in the classroom. Pentasila also never worried too much about Arno when he lost interest in whatever task she had, allowing him to do whatever he wanted so long as he stayed nearby. When Astrid was with him as well Pentasila would let them both get as dirty as they liked, which was funny when his Mama and Epione saw them. 

Just across the lawn sits a small wooden cart full of clay potted flowers to be bedded and crouching beside the cart is Wolf and Pentasila. Arno’s sandals slide on the polished stone of the staircase to the grass but he doesn’t slow, bumping down the steps instead. Wolf is on his hands and knees beside the gardener and as she shovels out a mass of dirt to make space for the next plant the little boy sifts through it. Carefully he draws out a worm and holding it in scooped hands scrabbles to his feet and walks over to a nearby flowerbed that is already planted where he can place the rescued creature.

Wolf straightens and wipes his hands on already very muddy shorts. As he turns to head back to Pentasila he spots the older boy and calls out loudly, “Arno.” Then Wolf is racing over to Arno and hugging him like they hadn’t just spent breakfast together a little over an hour ago. Calling a good morning to him, Pentasila beckons them both back to her side and Wolf hops around Arno telling him how he’d been taking the worms to a new home. 

For a while the boys assist Pentasila, shovelling the fresh dirt to fill in the holes the new plants are dropped into with their hands and then pressing the soil down so it is flat and hard. Arno does get to shake one bright orange flower loose from its pot but it loses a petal as he fumbles it even with help and despite reassurance from Pentasila he won’t harm the flower Arno is a little reluctant to try again. 

Just as Arno begins to grow tired of squishing the flowers into the mud and is thinking of what else he could do Astrid arrives having finished her music lesson. For a while the pair are happy to just lay in the grass and watch the clouds above them swish across the sky, lazily arguing over whether they should visit the stables or go to the market but neither of them feel like getting up. 

When Arno’s stomach rumbles loudly he tells Astrid of the fancy sweet buns Larina would now be baking, his mouth-watering thinking of the shiny red berries bubbling up into sugary jam. It is Astrid who hums innocently that the Palace cook always makes plenty so surely she wouldn’t notice a few buns go missing. Arno only encourages the idea saying they could easily make off with some without being noticed. 

They wait until Pentasila is preoccupied trying to take Wolf’s muddy fingers from his mouth and simply yell over that they’ll be back in a minute. Knowing Hippolyta is shut away in her office and no other parents or grandparents are around both children are bold enough to run through the Palace corridors, giggling and then shushing each other as they draw close to the kitchens. The bulky oak doors to the kitchens are closed to keep the heat and smoke from the hallway. Arno attempts to shove them open just a small amount, enough so they can slip in but not so much that the wide swinging doors would be noticed. 

Unfortunately they are heavier than he thought and after a couple of tries, grunting as he pushes up on his full weight against the door, his companion grows tired of his efforts. Impatiently Astrid nudges Arno out the way; she is only two years older than him and not much taller but she is certainly stronger. 

“Let me do it.” Astrid whispers sharply against his ear.

Of course Astrid manages to shift the door slowly with little effort but as she does it gives a creak that makes them both wince and duck back behind it. After waiting a moment with their breathes held in case someone comes to ask what they are up to nothing happens so Arno squeezes under Astrid’s arm and she follows behind him. 

It seems far easier to go unnoticed amongst the tide of women bustling around the kitchens than when it is only the usual staff in there. While the pair hide behind table edges, duck around legs and under loaded trays neither child realise that Larina even while directing three other cooks, had noted their arrival in the kitchen and easily followed their progress through her domain. She knows precisely where the two troublemakers are heading. It is not the first time nor will it be the last these little ones have tried to slip into her kitchen and since Diana was old enough to wander the Palace on her own the cook had made sure there were always additional treats left within reach of smaller amazons who might come searching. 

Today though she is too busy to amuse herself watching the pair’s little escapade but she does catch sight of them leaving with pockets stuffed and triumphant grins.

Arno and Astrid race back through the halls to the garden, Astrid breathlessly asking him if he saw when Hypsepyle almost caught her snatching the plate from the table and Arno trying to fish one bun out of his pocket as they go. He fumbles and almost drops the bun as they both skid to a halt in one corridor, the voice of his Papa and Egeria clear from just around the corner. Without saying a word Astrid tugs at his sleeve and tilts her head toward another hallway, able to easily pick another route out to the garden through the maze of Palace corridors.

When they had left Wolf was playing in the flowerbed next to Pentasila while she picked white and purple anemones to decorate the trellises in the ornamental gardens tomorrow. Tables and chairs were being set out this morning amongst the gravelled pathways and shaped hedges for the party after Evandre and Deianeira’s ceremony in the Temple. They would stay bare of decoration until tomorrow morning when the fresh pressed linens and flowers and other fancy things would be put out. 

The pair rush back out into the garden, short of breath but giddy from their exploits, to find both Pentasila and Wolf are nowhere in sight. Though it is hardly a rational assumption Arno’s immediate concern is that Wolf has gone missing without them watching over him and that both he and Astrid will be in trouble for leaving the younger boy. Astrid’s wide eyed gaze would seem to indicate she is thinking the same and they both spin around to head back into the Palace to search for him. 

Arno clears the top of the steps and hits the deck of the patio, Astrid right behind him, just as Hippolyta appears from the reception room doorway. His grandmother has not left the Palace grounds today so does not have on full armour or one of the elaborately embroidered dresses she wears to the Senate but her clothes are not what makes her look like a Queen, not even the crown-like dark gold headpiece does that. If Arno had a suggestion it would be the way she stands over them like an ancient tree that would not even be moved by a ragging storm that makes her a Queen. 

While Hippolyta gives Astrid and Arno a fierce look she holds Wolf’s hand gently. The little boy is now in a fresh pair of shorts and tunic free from mud and grass so he has obviously been with Grandmother at least long enough for her to get him cleaned up. Well almost cleaned up, Arno can see streaks of dried tears on Wolf’s cheeks. 

With an impossibly soft voice while she still has a steely gaze set on the other two children Hippolyta tells Wolf, “Go play Lykos. Arno and Astrid will be along in a moment.” Wolf whines a little and clings to their grandmother’s hand with both of his but she gently uncurls his fingers then brushes his cheek before tapping his shoulder and sending him off down the steps to the lawn.

Arno gives an alarmed little gulp when she turns her attention back to them despite Hippolyta’s reassurance to Wolf that they will be playing again shortly.

Hippolyta sighs inwardly at having to chastise the two of them; it was not so long ago Astrid and Arno were both so shy they barely spoke two words between them some days and while she hopes they do not return to being timid and scared of the world and people around them she must do what she can to help them learn to consider their actions a little more carefully before they take them. 

An hour ago Pentasila had brought Wolf to her study in tears, full of apologies that she had not really paid attention to where the two older children had gotten off to. After confirming with the gardener that Wolf had not injured himself Hippolyta dismissed Pentasila thanking her for taking care of her youngest grandson. 

Once Wolf had been calmed down to a final few tears she managed to understand through his gulps and hiccups that the little boy thought he had lost Astrid and Arno and would be in trouble. The Queen knew the older children would not be too far away and of course Wolf had been safe in Pentasila’s care but Arno and Astrid had been thoughtless in their impulsiveness, causing unnecessary concern for Wolf and for Pentasila.

Solemnly staring at the ground the pair stood before Hippolyta and accepted her dressing-down that they were both old enough now to be held accountable for their decisions. Arno’s face is hidden by his wild mane of blonde hair but she can see Astrid’s eyes are watery with unshed tears when the girl peaks up while Hippolyta speaks.

In their defence Arno tells her, “But Wolf was too little to come do what we were doing.”

“And just what were you doing?” Astrid shifts a little nervously at the question and Arno bites his lip to stop himself from adding any more words that might condemn him. Neither of them lie to her at least but both children are still so young that they think their silence will keep them out of trouble. They are also young enough that they think Hippolyta does not see the sweet buns in their pockets. At times she is surprised Larina even has anything left in her kitchen when these two are on Palace grounds. 

“You must always tell an adult where you are going. And do not leave Wolf out.” They both nod vigorously hoping it will bring an end to their telling-off. “Make sure your next adventure to the kitchens includes him.” The children both look up sharply, stunned that she knows what they were up to without their confession. 

Softening her voice she tells them, “Go play.” They both run down the steps the moment they are dismissed but she calls after them, “And do not eat all of those buns at once or I will have to explain to your mothers why you are not hungry for dinner.” 

On the lawn Astrid grabs Wolf around his waist, the seven year old spinning him around as he giggles in delight that his playmates are back and his earlier tears are forgotten. They decide on some make-believe game that leads the three of them around the top tier of the garden but they are careful to stay within sight of Hippolyta. She is not entirely convinced Wolf knows what is going on but he is happy enough to follow the lead of the older two. Sighing to herself Hippolyta concedes that the Senate paperwork she had hoped to catch up on will have to wait another couple days and instead settles on the balcony to watch the children play. 

With the lead up to the wedding Evandre, Deianeira and Wolf had been staying in their old rooms at the Palace that the boy did not even remember as his first home. For Wolf this was not so much a homecoming but a new adventure, discovering the city for the first time as the Capitol had not made much of an impression either when he was a baby or during the few short visits he has made with Deianeira or Evandre. Wolf has grown so much since Hippolyta’s last visit to Abila to see her grandson that watching him interact with Giesela, Astrid and Arno has been a joy. With Ilse arriving back last night all the children were together in the Capitol again for the first time in almost two years and tomorrow they would all be running wild at the wedding celebration. 

Hippolyta and Philippus had spent last evening in company of Ilse, Timandra and Nushaba, sharing the evening meal in their roof garden. Ilse now nine is already almost as tall as Giesela when they had arrived on the island, growing like a weed out in Thessaly though she seems to have lost none of her childlike exuberance. Hippolyta suspects she never will and that is surely a blessing. Ilse’s abundance of energy had waned enough after dinner for her to sit quietly with Hippolyta and take the Queen through her notebook of pressed flowers and scrawled transcripts of everything she had learned of Thessaly over almost two years. Much to Hippolyta’s shame it was far more than she knew of the region. The book had reminded the Queen of Evandre’s early sketchbooks and she could see her daughters hand in the girl’s pastime. 

Ilse had also been full of excitement for the upcoming nuptials, asking Hippolyta and Philippus question after question about the day, which was refreshing as Evandre had tired of the preparations after only her second day home. 

Catching Astrid’s eye Hippolyta tells the girl she is stepping inside to fetch drinks and thankfully when she returns all three children are exactly where she left them, now sat cross legged on the grass eating some of their haul from the kitchen. Hippolyta pours three cups of fruit juice and they make their way up to the table at her call. Her little Lykos’ coordination is not perfect so she warns him to hold his cup with both hands but he still ends up with a stream of juice down his chin. Hippolyta is just quick enough to wipe his face with a cloth before he is off to play again. 

Full of remorse for earlier Arno offers Hippolyta one of the buns from the kitchen. She declines but draws him into her arms and kisses the top of his head, after a moment he wriggles away from her groaning, “Grandmother!”

The rest of the afternoon passed quickly as the children wore themselves out. Hippolyta could tell they were almost ready for baths and dinners and bedtimes when Epione arrived from the lower tiers of the gardens where she grew most of her medicinal herbs. Still Astrid was rather reluctant to leave though in the end tiredness won out over stubbornness and Epione had carried off a sleepy daughter after promises of all the fun they would have tomorrow. 

Of Hippolyta’s own family, Evandre and Diana were the first to return to the Palace. Wanting to get back home to Venelia Diana rounded up the boys while Evandre fetched a small bag of Wolf’s things for the night he was to spend with his aunts. Though Wolf was thrilled with the idea of sharing a bed with Arno, under the hopefully misguided impression they would stay up and play all night, he was somewhat reluctant to leave before Deianeira arrived home. 

Solemnly he mumbles into Evandre’s neck as she hugged him goodbye, “Tell Mama love her.”

Catching what he meant to say Evandre replies, “I promise I will tell Mama you love her.”

With his promise Wolf finally allows his Papa to pass him over to Diana and she takes the boys home, heading toward the east wall of the gardens to cut through the stable yard and out toward the orange groves where her house sat.

That left only four of them for dinner that evening, Hippolyta and Philippus, Deianeira and Evandre. Old traditions dating back to before their time in Themyscira had the couple who would marry spend the night before the wedding apart. For the children of Men that would mean a stay at the homes of their parents, not something that had been considered in an Amazonian wedding before. It was Deianeira who suggested that tonight Hippolyta have Evandre stay in the Palace with her but she had been pleasantly surprised when Philippus had announced that she would of course then stay with Deianeira at Shirin’s apartment. 

When Hypsepyle comes into the dining room to light the fireplace Philippus decides it must be time for her and Deianeira to make their way into town. Hippolyta moves across the room to one of her favourite chairs by the fireplace intending to settle in to read with her wife absent for the evening but Deianeira asks Philippus to meet her at the Palace gates in a short while and then asks if Hippolyta will accompany her to the stables before they leave. 

Walking through the Palace and out to the stable block the younger amazon seems nervous, which is not really in Deianeira’s nature. While Hippolyta feels the overwhelming need to ask the younger woman what is troubling her she holds back, sensing an answer awaits at their destination. 

They walk all the way to the furthest stall where Hippolyta is met by the sight of a beautiful dappled grey horse softly nuzzling at a hanging net of hay. They hear a scuffle in the straw and Hippolyta looks down over the stall door to see a silver white foal wobbling on new legs around its mother. 

“She was born this morning. I thought…” Deianeira falters a little, almost self-conscious of Hippolyta’s questioning gaze on her. “I don’t really have anything to offer a Queen as a bride’s price, but I hoped this might be enough to at least show my respect.”

Hippolyta reaches out for the other woman’s hand, squeezing her fingers tight. “They are beautiful but it really was not necessary.” When Deianeira looks a little crestfallen Hippolyta continues, “Deianeira, you alone are enough. You have already given me a grandchild. And after the vows tomorrow I will have another daughter.”

Knowing how much Deianeira hates to show her emotions Hippolyta pretends not to notice the couple of tears that slide down her cheek as they leave the stables. Across the courtyard she sees Evandre has tagged along with Philippus and both are waiting at the gate. 

As the betrothed couple embrace to say their goodbyes Evandre asks close to her partner’s ear but loud enough that they can all hear her question, “She liked it?” 

Philippus looks intrigued but Hippolyta raises her hand a little to let her wife know she will fill in the details later. Answering for herself Hippolyta tells her daughter, “She did.” The smile spreading across Evandre’s face makes Hippolyta think her daughter could not look happier, but surely tomorrow will test that. 

Grinning Evandre nudges Deianeira, their arms still linked and sides pressed tight against each other reluctant to part company. “Thank the Gods the foal arrived on time! I told you it was a good idea.”

“You are so full of yourself Artist.” Deianeira nudges Evandre back, a little more firmly in the ribs than the younger woman had done to her but she is quick to capture Evandre’s lips too for a kiss.

After waving Philippus and Deianeira off, staying at the gate until the pair were out of sight, mother and daughter return to the lounge where Hippolyta finally settles by the fire to read. Evandre, finding herself restless with both Deianeira and Wolf gone, feels the need to find something for her hands to keep busy and so fetches the small travel case of paining supplies from her room. It is still light enough at the table by the open door that she can paint for an hour or so at least in the natural light, then a couple more by candle and torchlight. 

By the time her mother finishes a few chapters of her book and looks her way Evandre’s forearm is streaked with red and golden yellow, with possibly more on her skin than the wooden board before her. 

“You had better be able to scrub that paint off before the morning,” Hippolyta warns.

With the obligatory sigh and ‘yes Mother’ Evandre wipes at her arm with a cloth, only smudging the colours at first but eventually cleaning it off then she packs up her supplies. It is not so late in the evening but even without a big royal wedding, both Evandre and Deianeira choosing a much more simple and private affair, she knows tomorrow will be a long day and Hippolyta will insist on an early night. 

Evandre has heard many stories of Antiope and Menalippe’s and her own parent’s weddings. Obviously Hippolyta and Philippus had the grandest ceremony, where Mother wore a dress threaded with real gold and her Papa had gilded armour made just for the day. But her aunts had had a ten day hunt across the island as part of their celebrations so extravagance was not something reserved only for a Queen. 

The young amazon shuffles a chair up beside her mother’s and then leans across the arms to snuggle against her. Of course Hippolyta is happy to indulge her but she does ask, “Are you nervous?”

Evandre thinks about it a moment. She’s definitely not nervous about committing to Deianeira and spending the rest of their lives together. That was the certainty that got her through every day. But… “Only about remembering what I have to say.”

Hippolyta’s laugh huffs against Evandre’s hair where she rests her head atop Evandre’s. “The Gods do not mind if you get a few words wrong and I doubt Deianeira would even notice.”

When it is time for bed they walk along the corridor together to the private quarters. Hippolyta’s door is first with Evandre’s old room at the far end of the hall. With a teasing smile Hippolyta asks, “Did you wish to stay with me tonight?” 

Evandre rolls her eyes. “No Mother, I think I can manage one night alone just fine.”

Pleased Hippolyta kisses her daughter’s forehead. When she draws back her hands stay either side of Evandre’s face as she regards her a moment. “Are you happy?”

“Why would you ask that?” Evandre can’t help letting a little resentment and hurt at her mother for asking such a question bubble up in her voice.

But her mother’s response soothes her immediately. “Because I like hearing you answer.”

“Yes,” she says. Hippolyta closes her eyes briefly, committing Evandre’s words to memory along with how she looks right now, cheeks tight and flushed from her smile, blue eyes shining in earnest. “Yes I am happy.” 

Morning seems to come the moment Evandre closes her eyes. She tries to refuse breakfast but of course her mother will have none of it and insists she at least eat a bowl of grains before the ride to the Temple. When they ride out it is just before dawn and few women are out on the streets yet but those who are smile, nod and wave at Evandre. When they trot into the courtyard outside the Temple Philippus is already waiting to take the reins of her horse. And if her Papa is outside that means Deianeira is already in there, waiting. 

Philippus gives Evandre a quick kiss on the head while she stands frozen outside the doors, then her mother whispers something in her ear she can barely focus on to hear. Still not moving Evandre feels Hippolyta’s hand at the small of her back gently pushing her to go inside.

She eases open both of the double doors, a palm on each and sees Deianeira standing just inside the chamber with the Priestess. The golden morning light spills in from the Temple’s only windows which are high above them and cascade like a waterfall down the walls to pool around Deianeira. Every wall of the curved room is a soft white marble with grey veins running through it, carved into a forest. Stone deer peek out from the delicately sculpted leaves of bushes and behind tree trunks. Rabbits, lynxes, foxes and even a bear are amongst the decorations and from her visits here as a child Evandre remembers there are perhaps a dozen more species of smaller forest animals within the relief. Falcons and eagles soar where the trees meet the sky and carved stars circle a moon which is always full for its Goddess. The easiest decision Evandre faced aside from saying yes to Deianeira was which of the pantheon of Gods they would seek their blessing from and in the centre of this marble forest stands Artemis’ statue awaiting them. 

First though they had to be cleansed so the Priestess leads them to an antechamber which is far plainer than the splendour laid out for the Goddess. In an alcove beneath yet another high window sits a single shining copper bathtub. Clay jugs of steaming water are set out either side of it and Evandre thinks there might be enough to fill the thing twenty times over. 

It would often be the job of an acolyte to guide them through the next part of the rituals, helping them to undress and then washing them both but Evandre and Deianeira had chosen to do the task for each other. Deianeira stripped Evandre first without a word, who then stepped over the high side of the bath and sat down allowing her love to pour four of the large pitchers over her. The water already had scent added to it and as it churched from the pouring of each new jug foamy bubbles rose around Evandre’s legs. 

Deianeira picked up one of the cloths folded beside the tub and drew it diligently over every inch of Evandre’s skin. Then she held out her hand to help the younger amazon from the bath and had her stand beside it to be rinsed of the bubbles with a final jug of much colder water. 

Evandre remained naked as Deianeira took her turn in the water. The slight tilt of the bath had allowed the water to drain quickly and step by step they carried out the same routine having switched roles. Only Evandre couldn’t help grinning mischievously as she wiped the cloth over Deianeira’s breasts. It did not go unnoticed by Deianeira, but it would go unanswered. 

“We are in a temple Artist, behave yourself.”

When the bathing was finished they both slipped on the white gowns Phoebe had made them. Though they had asked for them to be simple Phoebe did nothing without beauty and both dresses had what the seamstress had called ‘only little embellishments’ of delicate embroidery. Returning to the Priestess there were only a few words to be said in the Temple under Artemis’ watchful gaze, all of which Evandre remembered, and they were sworn to each other before all the Gods. 

Deianeira and Evandre emerged from the Temple to find the bridles of both their horses laced with summer flowers and Philippus looking immensely pleased with herself. As they ride out through the now awake city there are shouts of congratulations and good wishes from the women they pass, many of whom they will see later. There will be a full day and night of celebrations ahead, offering enough time for every amazon in the Capitol to join them. In the gardens would be a single table laid out for a sit down lunch with a few invited guests, their closest friends and family, followed by a long afternoon relaxing in the sunshine. By the evening more tables will have been set for an evening feast with music and dancing. 

Arriving back at the Palace the first thing both Deianeira and Evandre want to do is see Wolf. Their son though is far less interested in them than in the game he is playing chasing Venelia around a statue of Athena. While Evandre decides to join in Deianeira instead takes the sparkling crystal glass of red fruit juice Menalippe holds out and joins her and Antiope beneath the shade of a tree.

Raising her own cup in salute Menalippe says, “Welcome to the family.” They all laugh a little at the notion that they needed a marriage to make that official. But with a more serious tone Menalippe adds, “It can be difficult to be married to a Princess. If you need any advice just ask me.”

It takes a moment for Antiope to realise her wife is speaking about her. “I am a General, not a Princess.” 

It is a little hard for Deianeira to tell if Antiope’s indignation is completely genuine but joke or not she softens when Menalippe kisses her check. “Of course you are my love.” 

Finished chasing Wolf, who Deianeira sees is now with his Grandpa, Evandre comes to sit beside her. She is carrying Astrid on her hip who is wearing a deep purple dress with gold threads braided through her dark hair. Shifting the girl as she takes a seat Evandre settles Astrid on her lap. 

Ilse trails behind them, her forest green chiton patterned with vines, and sits on the other side of Deianeira. Wistfully Ilse touches the embroidered herd of horses racing across Deianeira’s dress over her thigh, the stitching almost invisible unless the threads catch the light. 

“You look beautiful,” the girl whispers. 

By some miracle Nushaba has managed to braid Ilse’s hair and earlier all the other children had threaded daisies in the knots. Leaning down to Ilse’s height Deianeira whispers back, “So do you.” 

They both turn their attention back to the others just as the General is sharing the fact that when Evandre was a girl she had said she wanted to marry Antiope when she was older.

“I do not remember that. You’re making it up.” 

Much to Evandre’s dismay Menalippe confirms, “It’s true. You were three, four maybe, attending your first wedding. Hippolyta had told you that being married was choosing to spend the rest of your life with your best friend. At the feast that evening you told us all that you would marry Antiope when you grew up.”

Deianeira looks at her new wife; without a doubt this is the sweetest thing she has heard of Evandre’s childhood yet. Evandre bemoans being humiliated, yet again, but Deianeira adores every story of baby Evandre that is shared with her. 

Astrid covers her mouth with both hands as she giggles in Evandre’s lap. 

“What’s so funny?” Evandre asks as she digs at Astrid’s ribs and nuzzles into the girl’s neck. “Huh?”

“You would have been Giesela’s mama.”

The absurdity of it has Astrid in fits of laughter and Deianeira sends a quick thank you to the Gods once again that they have managed to give Astrid this life and this joy. In fact all of the children, though in this moment Giesela seems far less joyful. 

“That’s not how…” she begins, intending to set Astrid straight but Antiope is quick to stop Giesela from ruining the youngest girl’s fun.

After the lunch Evandre had felt like taking a nap but Diana beat her to it using the boys as an excuse and snuck off into the Palace for a couple of hours sleep with Arno and Wolf. Evandre does find herself on a swing seat with Giesela and Astrid and under the shade of the canopy gets a moment to rest her eyes and even Giesela grows heavy with sleep beside her. Refreshed after an hour Evandre returns to the party, certain her mother had kept the other guests away from where they rested for a little longer than a bride should be absent from her own wedding.

By early evening the music and wine had done more than enough to energise her again, though after she had stuffed herself with enough roasted wild boar it was possible she’d eaten an entire pig Evandre felt perhaps she should stay off her feet a while.

The moment Evandre sits beside a small table of abandoned drinks Ilse appears and settles herself on the woman’s lap. As usual the redhead is full of stories and is telling Evandre all about catching Melo and Hypsepyle kissing by the rose bushes when Giesela joins them at the table. The older girl’s arrival prompts Ilse to tell Evandre about their adventures at the library yesterday. 

“There’s so much to read. I plan on some day reading everything in there. Even Clio hasn’t done that.”

Conspiratorially she whispers very loudly to Evandre that even Giesela, not known to be the most voracious reader, found something that caught her interest. Beside them Giesela sputters, choking a little on her drink. Drawing from their subject of interest when going to the library and the bookshelves it would have led them too, along with the cautious glance Giesela now throws toward Antiope who stands nearby, Evandre can guess precisely which book Giesela found. 

Isle has moved on to other topics and seems not to notice Giesela’s blush in the dusky evening light. Evandre won’t mention anything more tonight but she has a few more days left in the Capitol and thinks perhaps she will have to spend a little time with Giesela and have a talk similar to the one Diana once had with her. Perhaps Giesela too might need a little nudge in her parents direction just as Evandre had. Of course it had been a few more years after ‘the talk’ that Evandre had discovered Clio’s ‘Treatises on Bodily Pleasure’. Perhaps discovered was not the right word as it was Otrera who had sent her on a supposed errand to the library with an aisle and shelf number. Evandre had eventually thanked her friend, after first dunking her in the bathing pools for being so devious.

Long after night had fallen the music was still playing though far less exuberant which was a good things as Evandre would not have been able to keep up with Otrera’s dancing otherwise. The pair of them stumble apart and her friend sends her back to her wife and son. 

Wandering the garden for them Evandre passes her Papa with Arno, the little boy fast asleep with his head on Philippus’ lap and her hand laying on his head. Her mother stands by a fountain with Venelia and Diana. If neither of them have her son yet then he must still be with Deianeira. Finally she spots them across the lawn, Wolf in Deianeira’s arms as she sways to the soft music. When Evandre reaches them she drapes her arms over Deianeira’s shoulders with their son nestled between them and Wolf lifts his face to blink up at her. “Bedtime Papa?” he asks sleepily. 

Evandre manages to duck her head between them to kiss his nose. “Bedtime soon. Close your eyes.” He does and promptly lays his flushed cheek against Deianeira’s chest. 

For a little while Evandre simply sways to the sound of the chelys being played with her wife in her arms. Eventually they hear the heavy breathes that tell them Wolf has fallen asleep. “Mother said she can put him down in her room. We can stay, dance, or…”

Deianeira is only a fraction shorter than Evandre so to look into her artist’s eyes she needs only to tilt her chin a little. “I think I would like to take my wife to bed.”

“I think I’d like that too.”


	6. All Is Well

“Giesela, come with us,” Astrid’s whine follows Arno’s and both of them were now giving the older girl pleading looks as she drops onto the sand beside their things. She loved them both dearly but right now she had no intention of chasing them around the beach.

“Go play. I’m staying right here.”

Using her satchel as a pillow Giesela settles onto the soft sand and with a wriggle her shoulders, hips and heels dig into the fine powder warming her skin. She ignores the very loud whisper Astrid shares with Arno telling him Giesela is just too old and boring to play with them both now and snorts a laugh as the two of them take off giggling. Old? She may be almost seventeen but the other amazons (aside from Diana and Evandre of course) have reached at least triple figures, though she has never dared to ask any of the women exactly how old that might be exactly. 

Usually Giesela would not choose to lie out baking under the sun; she much preferred to be sat under the shade of a canopy if she was lounging on a veranda or cooling off in the water if she were out on a boat. Today though the temperature was still mild despite a cloudless sky and adding the strong breeze off the ocean she is more than comfortable on the open beach. It is Arno who relishes the heat, more than once Giesela has arrived at his home to find the boy sprawled out on the tiled courtyard basking like lizard.

Closing her eyes Giesela listens to Astrid and Arno’s voices moving further from her until they stop far enough away they can get up to what they like without her standing over them but close enough that she is still aware of where they are. When Giesela was their age back home in Prussia she would never have been allowed out the sight of her grandfather or mother except when she attended school, even before the war, but on Themyscira Astrid and Arno enjoyed far more independence. 

Arno was overjoyed when he had first been allowed to walk alone to and from school and now at six years old he would start most of his mornings with a detour through the marketplace while it was still quiet, always excited to get a look at what the artists and traders would have to offer that day. He even brushed off Astrid or Giesela’s attempts to walk with him. Not long ago Giesela had shown the boy how to fish and sometimes after lessons he might wander alone to sit on the wall along the coast road where barely an inch of sandy shore touched the stonework and you could easily cast out a line to the water with a fishing pole, enjoying not being kept to a grownup’s schedule.

Epione allows Astrid to roam just as freely within the city walls and the areas close by- the apple, fig and apricot orchards, the wild flower meadows, the stables and farmlands. But more often than not the girl enjoyed spending time with her mother in the apothecary when she was not on the practice fields learning from Artemis. On the occasions Gisela had to wait at the apothecary for some item or other for her mothers, or simply for Astrid to be dismissed, she would amuse herself by testing the younger girl on her knowledge of each of the tiny bottles lining the oak shelves. The writing on the yellowed labels was too tiny and scratchy to make out from any distance so Astrid could hardly cheat that way and once Astrid made her guess the girl would scramble up the step ladder in front of the shelves, snatch the bottle and pass it to Giesela to check. She had to admit Astrid’s skills had gotten pretty impressive and only Epione seemed to know more of the labels by memory alone.

Being the eldest child on the island Giesela had the most freedoms. Menalippe and Antiope allowed her stay out in the evenings with Adea to go swimming at the lagoon amongst the fluorescent corals and fish or meet with friends to sit outside Marpesia’s in the glow of lantern light. Some nights Giesela even joined Egeria, Otrera and Penthesilea at the amphitheatre, returning home long past dark, though she was always trailed home by the three amazons walking her to the door. Any protest she made of that particular ritual was met with the stern reminder from Menalippe that she was still a child and she had no doubt the three older amazons had gotten the same warning.

Her freedoms did not come without additional responsibilities though, if the little ones wanted to venture further from home Giesela was often ‘volunteered’ to accompany them. This she did not mind (unlike the babysitting guard of honour that had to walk her home at night); watching over Astrid and Arno (or Wolf and Ilse when they visited) for days at the beach or riding through the meadows was nothing like having to care for them in the forest in Prussia. Here she never had to worry about hunting for rabbits and searching for berries to keep their stomachs from growling. She did not have to think how she would have to build a shelter and have a fire going before dark or wonder where she might go unnoticed stealing a blanket or a loaf of bread.

All that felt like a lifetime ago even though Giesela has strong memories of little Astrid, timid and fragile and Arno barely tottering around and always silent. Sometimes it seemed impossible that those were the same children she knew now. A little of that side of them is certainly still there, on their own each can be thoughtful and calm; Astrid could spend hours sat out in the olive groves outside the city walls playing her flute like instrument that Giesela forgets the name of and Arno liked to spend time alone fishing or just sitting above the training grounds watching the warriors. But the minute they are together the pair of them are like a slowly building storm, causing the adults around them endless trouble if they are left alone together for too long. When she is not responsible for them though Giesela has to admit even causing a nuisance they are quite a lot of fun. And that was not something she imagined of either of them when they had first come into her life, though perhaps the signs were there when she had first watched Diana trying to corral the pair of them in that bathtub in Poland.

For now Astrid and Arno are being wild just out of her earshot and Giesela is grateful for a quiet moment to herself and not having to think about anything, her mind had already been taxed enough this morning by schoolwork. Mnemosyne had been helping Giesela with mathematics and when she had grumbled that she would never ever use the stupid formulas she was being forced to learn her teacher had reminded her how they would help in navigation out at sea. Grudgingly Giesela had got back to work without further complaint, knowing that being able to prove to Antiope and Menalippe she could safely navigate by herself would someday allow her to join Adea or Cordelia when they sailed further around the island. 

Arno had been studying languages this morning and while Mnemosyne helped Giesela he was muttering away to himself in Persian and trailing his finger along the script on the parchment in front of him. Astrid had been quietly reading and as usual did not need any assistance from their teacher so Giesela was not sure what the girl’s morning lessons had been about at all. Once they had all escaped their little classroom for the day Giesela had wanted nothing more than to head down to the harbour to see if Damaris or Adea might be free to go sailing but she had been pounced upon by the younger pair begging her to take them down to the south beach. As usual she had given in too easily and the group had then gone on to plead with Larina for a lunch to bring with them as the Palace kitchens were closer than Marpesia’s, and they could avoid the midday bustle of the marketplace entirely from their journey.

Passing through the Palace gate with their haul they had been waved off by Venelia who promised she would send word down to Epione on where they were going and the three children traipsed off along the coast road as it looped the far side of the Capitol before leading down to the shore. As soon as they hit the beach Arno had whined about being starving, which was ridiculous as he had been snacking on dried fruit all morning. It seemed Diana and Venelia never let him leave home without something to eat stuffed into a trouser pocket or satchel. But his grousing had set Astrid off, who joined her brother amazon’s chorus and Giesela gave up trying to talk them into going swimming first.

With no blanket to spread out their feast the three children sat themselves in the sand around the basket Larina had packed for them herself and dug in. Cloth wrapped parcels of cheese and bread, small hessian sacks of dried fruits, nuts and fresh berries were drawn out one at a time and shared between them. 

As soon as the food was gone Astrid pulled both Arno and Giesela to their feet demanding they go hunting through the rock pools at the base of the cliffs. Though they’d had to pick their way through a large amount of slimy seaweed they’d managed to find starfish and anemones and little hermit crabs with shells of all colours and shapes. Despite clambering over the slippery rocks and waving nipping crabs at each other the only thing close to a real threat Astrid and Arno had faced was a turtle that became annoyed with the pair of them following him along the beach through the surf. As a warning it had snapped at Arno but he only laughed and ran to hide behind Astrid.

That was when Giesela has left them to it, announcing that after she’d had a while to rest they could all go swimming before returning to the city. Without intending to Giesela must have drifted off to sleep, waking with the sudden startled jerk convinced that time has passed but unsure how much. The last time she had checked, through half closed eyes, the younger children had both been splashing in the shallow surf shrieking at each other. But there was no shrieking now. And while Giesela enjoyed the peace, hearing only the slight roar of water rushing across sand and gulls calling out triumphantly in the sky, it was never a good thing when Arno and Astrid were this quiet.

Sitting up and blinking to adjust to the change in brightness Giesela looks over to where she had last seen the troublemakers but found nothing. Gazing further along the shoreline following the furrows in the sand from their footsteps she spots their discarded shoes and clothes, far further than they know they’re supposed to go. For a brief moment her heart thumps hard in her chest and she tries to clear her mind of the barrage of images of things that might have happened to them while she had her eyes off them. Before she is pitched into a full battle against her own panic Giesela catches a spray of white out in the water and can just make out two small figures splashing about in the surf. Quickly her concern gives way to annoyance. Dammit, she had trusted them.

Jumping to her feet Giesela jogs across the sand, stopping in the shallows of the incoming tide. She is just readying to call them back to shore, lifting her hands to her mouth to yell out, when she realises just how close the pair are swimming to the high rock face of the cove. To the right of Astrid and Arno, what seems like no distance at all, the swell of the waves thrusts up to massive heights against a sheer cliff face, the broken waves smashing back down to the ocean with force. Urgent now Giesela shouts out, stepping deeper into the water until it is up past her shins, as if trying to move herself closer to them. It takes little more than a moment for her to realise her warning is unnecessary, that the younger amazons are already paddling at a frantic rate back to land but neither of them seem to be getting far.

In a split second Giesela goes in after them. She hadn’t taken any time to think through her decision but fortunately her light clothing and sandals do nothing to weigh her down even when waterlogged and she easily ploughs through the water. Reaching Astrid first Giesela makes a grab for the girl just as a wave hits them both. After spitting out a mouthful of salty water Giesela tries again but Astrid shakes her head and pulls her shoulders back, kicking her legs to draw herself away from Giesela’s reach. After another wave breaks over them leaving them both sputtering Astrid manages to tell Giesela, “Get Arno first.”

Arno isn’t just a good swimmer, he is a strong one, and fearless doing it. Since Diana taught him how to swim in the bathing pools Arno has had no problem paddling alone in the sea or jumping into the deepest parts of the lagoons by the waterfalls. Full of confidence and sometimes a little too cocky Arno is forever shrugging off words of caution from Diana and Venelia. But when Giesela reaches him Arno is gasping and gulping mouthfuls of water in a panic, hands thrashing to keep himself afloat. The moment Giesela loops her arm across the top of his shoulders and under his chin though Arno goes limp just as they had all been taught; despite the groaning whenever they had to practice swimming rescues the boy had obviously been paying some attention.

The swim back seems to take forever and Giesela feels like the strongest battle she faces is not the tides but keeping her focus on the shoreline when she desperately wants to look back to check on Astrid. When the waters shallow and Arno can get his feet on the ocean floor he ducks out of Giesela’s hold and scrambles across the sand clear of the waves. Standing on shaky legs Giesela takes only a moment to draw a few deep breaths before she runs back into the surf. Once she reaches deep enough water again Giesela makes a shallow dive and starts swimming back to Astrid. 

The girl is already close to the rocks when Giesela snatches for Astrid’s hand and a large wave throws them towards it. The swell drags Astrid away momentarily before sweeping them back together giving Giesela the opportunity to pull Astrid close against her chest, curling one arm around her offering protection and kicking hard with her feet to keep them both afloat, right before they are slammed against the cliff face.

Giesela feels a sharp blinding pain in her leg and the free arm she instinctively threw out to push them clear of the rocks but she doesn’t give herself time to think about it as they start to swim back to shore. Fortunately Astrid is capable of swimming on her own and Giesela is not forced to drag her through the water as she did Arno and the waves that follow are nowhere near as fierce. 

They are met on the beach by Arno wailing at them but the boy is incoherent through his tears and Giesela can only hear the water trapped in her ears swishing around. He hovers over them anxiously as Astrid crouches on all fours and coughs up seawater and bile. Knelt in the sand beside her Giesela’s leg stings viciously and she looks down to see the frothy surf around her knees is red with her blood. The sight makes her lightheaded and she falls forward onto her hands; then the pain in her arm explodes and instead of taking her weight its strength gives completely and she falls onto her side in the sand.

“Giesela.” Arno’s startled voice is far higher than usual. She can only give a dull moan, unable to reassure him she is okay beyond that and he too falls to his knees in the sand next to her. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry Giesela. I didn’t mean to swim so far. I didn’t know until Astrid told me to come back.” Arno’s tears fall on Giesela’s face where she is now curled in the wet sand. To try to calm him, and maybe herself, Giesela holds up her good hand. When he grabs it Giesela pulls him down next to her and despite the physical discomfort she feels immense relief having Arno buried against her side.

“Astrid?” Ignoring the horrendous amount of pain it causes, Giesela reaches out with her bad arm to check the girl is next to her. Giesela has no energy left to lift her face from Arno’s hair but finally she manages to grab hold of the sodden vest Astrid had stripped down to and curls her fist tight, not willing to let the younger girl go.

“I’m okay.” Astrid’s voice is rough from the coughing but aside from that she doesn’t sound too shaken.

Astrid shifts presumably to get to her feet and then uncurls Giesela’s fingers from their vicelike grip. “Giesela, your leg.”

At Astrid’s exclamation of almost quiet surprise Arno pushes back from Giesela causing the older girl to grunt. When he tilts his head to look where Astrid is gazing Giesela watches his face go pale. When he realises some of the blood has gotten onto him too Arno gives a distressed little whine and fumbles backwards to get away from her.

“I’ll go get Mama. I can run really fast.” Giesela can’t stop herself from rolling her eyes as she shifts her gaze to Astrid. The younger girl winces when she realises what she had said; they both know Astrid would not be nearly as fast as Giesela would be except that right now the calf of the older girl’s leg looks shredded.

“I’m okay, it looks worse than it is.” The attempt to reassure them doesn’t seem to have any effect, especially while Giesela stays prone on the sand. Slowly sitting up Gisela tries not to let how much of a struggle the simple movement is show on her face. “Go get our things from up the beach,” she tells them hoping to distract them with the task and give herself a little space to assess just how bad her injuries are.

The pair race off and as they grab their clothes then further along fetch the basket and satchels, Giesela struggles to her feet. Gingerly she tests the strength of her leg; her calf stings like she has a hundred shards of glass in it not sand but despite the blood running down her leg she can walk with only a slight limp. It is her arm that worries her the most. After taking only a couple of steps the shock of her foot impacting the ground seems to chase up her body to wrench at what she thinks might be at least one broken bone somewhere in her arm. All she can do is focus on the fact that an injured arm won’t stop her from walking off the beach so she simply cradles her forearm with her good hand to try to cushion it as much as possible and grits her teeth before heading forward.

Giesela’s movements are slow and awkward so instead of waiting for her Arno and Astrid have doubled back to her side. They have their dry clothes on but haven’t bothered drying themselves, there are wet patches on Astrid’s shoulders from her dripping hair and both of their ankle length loose trousers now stick to their damp skin. Arno has left off his shirt and after telling Giesela to hold still Astrid knots it tightly around Giesela’s leg with surprising efficiency.

They stop briefly when they reach the point where they must choose between the path that would take them up through the bracken to the coast road and back to the city or continuing only a short distance more along the sand were they would reach the shingled path to the harbour. Just the thought of trying to walk all the way to Epione in the centre of the Capitol has Giesela breaking into a panicky sweat as the younger children stare up at her. 

“The harbour is closer,” she manages to get out. “And Cordelia has dealt with injuries like this many times.” Giesela tries to sound as confident as she can. It is true that the docks are full of hazards, she has seen the Harbour Master tend to many a wound from slipped knives or boathooks, but she doesn’t want to admit that she has never seen anything quite as nasty looking as the wound on her leg. 

Arno still pale nods in agreement, though Giesela isn’t sure he was really listening. Astrid simply forges ahead on Giesela’s instruction. As they continue to walk Arno remains barely a breath from Giesela’s side but he seems anxious he might accidentally touch her and it leads him to periodically sway closer to her and then away again. Astrid however stays in front of them the whole time throwing glances back over her shoulder, looking as though she might take off any minute to find a saviour she can drag back to help Giesela.

The docks are busy, full of women back from the morning fishing runs now working on their boats or nets. Adea spots them first, balancing on a rocking two person skiff with her feet wide apart as she coils a rope around her arm. At first the woman simply glances up and smiles when she notices her friend with the younger children; she and Giesela have taken Arno out a few times before into the harbour and perhaps she thinks they are visiting in the hopes of another boat ride. Only a second later does the fisherwoman take in the full picture before her and drop the rope. Swiftly Adea climbs onto the bench seat across the middle of the boat and then leaps onto the dock, running only far enough along the wooden walkway so she can jump across to the low harbour wall and over to them.

“What happened?” Adea immediately has her hands on Giesela’s hips to steady her which has the girl a little concerned at how bad she must look by now.

“It was just an accident swimming. I’m fine.”

Adea sputters, “Fine?” But then she catches the tilt of Giesela’s head to Arno now cowering at her hip and calms herself. In a far steadier voice Adea says, “Come, let’s get you cleaned up.”

When it becomes clear Arno is not budging from Giesela’s side Astrid skirts away allowing Adea to get her arm around the older girl’s waist and lift Giesela’s arm around her neck. Giesela is thankful that Arno is staying on the side of her injured arm and Adea hadn’t tried to lift that one because despite not wanting to scare the boy she would very likely have screamed. Slowly Adea helps her to the Harbour Master’s office where Cordelia immediately relinquishes her chair as Giesela hobbles through the doorway, the woman seeming utterly un-phased by Giesela bleeding across her floor. As Adea gets Giesela sat down Cordelia calls out to one of the other amazons to bring in the medical supplies.

Giesela remembers a story Adea told her once of Damaris getting in a fight with a shark and Cordelia patching her up. At the time she had thought it was just a tall tale but Cordelia’s calm demeanour now makes Giesela think it is entirely plausible; also it is very easy to imagine Damaris trying to settle a score with a shark no matter how fearsome and big a fish it may have been.

So softly Adea has to ask her to say it again Astrid asks if she should go find her mother. Before giving an answer Cordelia eyes Giesela’s leg and she sees the woman’s frown deepen. But when Cordelia turns to Astrid there is only a calm sort of half-smile on her face. “Fetch your mother or whoever is in the Apothecary today.” With a purpose now Astrid sprints from the office.

Cordelia’s fingers set to work on the knot of the makeshift bandage to check the wound. A lifetime of dealing with wet ropes means her fingers are deft but when the Harbour Master tugs a little too hard to loosen one stubborn piece Giesela can’t help but whimper slightly. In sympathy Arno lets out a pained squeak of his own and with one look from her superior Adea gathers the boy up and takes him outside. As they leave Giesela can hear Adea whispering in Arno’s ear but she can’t make out any words over his sobs.

Without the bigger audience to be brave for Giesela can’t seem to stop her own tears coming. Cordelia leaves the bandage a moment and gathers Giesela into her arms instead. With her face pressed against woman’s chest Giesela can’t think of anything else to say besides, “It hurts.” It is surprisingly soothing just hearing Cordelia tell her she will be okay.

Giesela is sniffling back her last tears when Epione arrives and gets to work immediately with barely an acknowledgement to either Giesela or Cordelia. The Harbour Master stands back to give the healer room to pull off the unknotted but still tightly wrapped shirt that is now tinged a dark brown with blood. The small box of proper cotton bandages and a bowl of fresh water is already set out on the floor beside where Epione is kneeling and she begins washing the wound first. After a short while Giesela risks a look down and is relieved to see the cut doesn’t look nearly as bad as it had on the beach. It still feels bruised and raw from the healer’s touch but it is certainly a lot better with the sand and salt removed. She can now see there are actually a number of lengthy cuts on the top of her thigh and all the way to her ankle that would easily scab over but one much deeper gash runs from her knee and curves down her calf and now with no pressure from the bandage it is starting to seep fresh blood. 

Epione catches Giesela’s eye before gently touching her fingers to the edge of the wound. “I will need to stitch this for it to heal.”

As Epione takes out the needle and threads for the task Giesela feels a heat rushing over her and bile rising in her throat. “We can wait. Until Antiope and Menalippe are here,” the girl insists but Epione doesn’t answer. She also doesn’t stop her preparations. Instead Giesela looks desperately to Cordelia. “They’ll come right?”

Epione is the one who answers. Leaving her medical instruments laid out on a clean cloth beside where she kneels the woman gently rests a hand on the outside of Giesela’s knees. “I sent Astrid to fetch your mothers as soon as she told me. I am sure they are not too far behind but I need to get this done.”

Giesela nods tearfully giving the healer her permission. As her skin is pulled back together with the thread Giesela keeps a tight grip on Cordelia’s hand. She doesn’t even realise Epione is done until Cordelia brushes a thumb across her cheek and Giesela unclenches her jaw, releasing her lower lip from between her teeth. Epione is wrapping her leg in the clean bandages and what was once Arno’s shirt is now a damp stained heap on the floor.

Now the immediate problem of stopping the bleeding has been dealt with Epione asks her if she is hurt anywhere else. Giesela knew it was inevitable but she was hoping her mothers would have arrived before Epione would need to examine her.

“My arm.” Giesela hesitantly lifts her arm a little offering it toward the healer but when Epione touches just above Giesela’s wrist the girl cries out in pain and tries to draw it back.

“I am sorry little one.”

It is strange to be called by the name Epione usually reserves for Astrid but right now Giesela doesn’t mind. Epione rummages in her medicine bag once more and pulls out a small bottle, a dark blue glass one with a cork stopper and Giesela tries to remember if it is one that she has quizzed Astrid on before. Popping the cork out with her thumb Epione holds the little bottle to Giesela’s lips and the girl gulps down the contents.

Giesela’s brows tighten in confusion, not sure what she expected to happen next but mildly disappointed that whatever was in the bottle didn’t have had an immediate effect. Epione lays a hand on her knee and without meaning to Giesela stiffens. Her reaction of course does not go unnoticed. “I will only touch your arm again when the medicine has done its work. You will not feel any pain,” Epione promises her.

The longer they sit the slower everything around Giesela seems to be moving; the dust in the air, the voices drifting in from outside, Epione’s thumb brushing against her leg and then even Menalippe and Antiope rushing into the room.

Astrid tries to follow Giesela’s mothers, only managing to get as far as ducking her head into the room before Epione tells her to wait outside with Arno. Menalippe and Antiope kneel either side of Giesela and when she turns her head side to side to check it’s really them the light from the window streaks in her vision. Her blinking feels really slow, her eyelids heavy, but it does chase the bright lines away and makes their faces clear again. She is wondering if Antiope looks mad with her when she realises the voices in the room are becoming murkier and she barely notices Epione checking her arm. As promised Giesela doesn’t feel any pain but she is certain she can hear the ends of splintered bone scraping against each other as Epione manipulates her arm, but that is probably just her imagination. 

The harbour medical supplies are well stocked and Epione is able to wrap a single layer of soft cotton bandage against the girl’s skin then strap a thin wooden splint to her forearm running the length of her palm to her elbow. To finish Epione tightly binds Giesela’s arm with another layer of bandages to hold the bones in place.

Wanting nothing more now than to sleep Giesela closes her eyes and lays her head against Menalippe’s shoulder but the shivering that now seems to be coursing through her keeps her awake. She assumes the chill she cannot shake is from the wet clothing she is still sat in and wonders if she should try to say something when Cordelia wraps a blanket over her shoulders and Menalippe draws the ends together. Then as though she weighs nothing at all Menalippe lifts Giesela from the chair, cradling her with one arm just under her shoulders and one beneath her knees.

Waiting at the hitching post are the two horse Antiope had commandeered from the practice fields. On the way down to the harbour Menalippe had ridden with Astrid held tightly in front of her but now it is Antiope who climbs into the saddle and shuffles back to make room for a second rider. With assistance from Epione, Menalippe lifts their daughter up to Antiope and her wife begins the slow and gentle ride back home. Closely behind them Epione follows with Astrid sharing her own saddle, her final duty today will be to ensure Giesela is settled comfortably at home.

Before Menalippe can join them she will have to take Arno to Diana. Menalippe had been with Antiope overseeing the activities in the top training field when Astrid had arrived in a state, racing along the terrace above the grounds calling for them both before she reached the stone steps. In her haste the little girl had slipped just short of the bottom step but fortunately Artemis had been nearby to catch her.

Once Astrid had caught her breath she had told them of the accident at the beach, where Giesela and Arno were now and that she had already sent Epione to them. Diana was still leading a troop of warriors on a distance run around the Capitol but after Astrid assured them only Giesela was hurt Antiope instructed Artemis to inform Diana on her return, swearing they would send word if the young Lieutenant was required and if a scout needed to be sent for her.

Looking at her niece’s son sat with Adea, Menalippe knew Diana’s presence was certainly needed but it would be far quicker to take the boy to her. Arno’s eyes are red from crying but for right now the tears have stopped and Adea still has her right hand on the boy’s shoulder as the other rubs his back soothingly. When he mutters something too quiet for Menalippe to hear Adea moves her right hand to brush along his hairline to get him to look up at her and he repeats his words though they are too far away for Menalippe to make them out clearly. Arno’s long blonde locks had only recently been cut like Kheuke’s and were now a stripe of hair down the middle of his head, shaved close on either side. When she first saw it Menalippe had teased him that it was not unlike the crest of her war helmet but he had told her confidently that the style made him fierce and strong like Kheuke. Fierce certainly wasn’t in the boy’s character but watching him trail around after the swordswoman on the training grounds trying to imitate her was undeniably adorable. Arno’s hair style couldn’t quite match the height of Kheuke‘s tight dark curls but his thick locks at least made the attempt possible; at the moment though the waterlogged and limp hair only added to his overall dejected appearance.

When Arno and Adea notice Menalippe approaching he looks up and for a second appears scared, probably thinking he is in trouble for his part in what happened today. But when Menalippe reaches out her arms to pick him up he clings to her like a baby monkey, his feet hooking behind her back and fingers grasping round her neck.

“I’m sorry Giesela got hurt. I didn’t mean it,” he sobs against her ear.

“I know.” She bounces him in her arms a bit and hushes him like she would a baby. If she treated him this way usually he would certainly object that he is a big boy now, though those words always make her smile thinking they only show just how young he really is. “Let’s get you to your mother.” As she turns back to the horse Menalippe mouths a silent ‘thankyou’ over the boys shoulder to Adea.

As Menalippe draws her horse up at the training grounds she sees Diana has returned from the run and looks to be readying to ride down to the harbour herself. It takes Niobe tapping her on her shoulder for the younger woman to notice their arrival and she rushes to her son immediately.

Menalippe lowers Arno from the saddle into Diana’s waiting arms. 

“Are you okay?” Diana doesn’t wait for an answer as she runs her free hand over him checking for damage. Arno gives his mother a silent nod but not entirely satisfied with that answer Diana looks up to Menalippe to confirm.

“He is unharmed. Just a little upset.”

Menalippe’s assurance doesn’t seem to have eased all of Diana’s fears though. “Is Giesela okay?” she asks, deep brown eyes full of concern.

“A few cuts and bruises. And a broken arm. Epione patched her up and Antiope has taken her home.”

Diana’s relieved sigh is palpable. Before coming of age and into her powers Diana had taken her fair share of knocks as had Evandre and they both lived to tell their tales thanks largely to Epione’s care. The details of the event (Astrid had been sparse on those) could be examined later but for now they both had children to take care of.

Diana seems happy to stay on the training grounds with Arno on her hip and the other warriors fussing over him. Venelia would not be finishing her duties at the Palace for a few more hours so Menalippe has no doubt that Diana would rather remain here and take comfort from her sisters than go home alone. Menalippe will not feel at peace herself until she is with Antiope and can see that Giesela is safe.

When she steps through the door the house is quiet and assuming Antiope will be with their daughter Menalippe heads immediately to Giesela’s room where she finds her wife sat with her back to the headboard of the bed, legs stretched out in front of her. Their girl is not quite unconscious from Epione’s drugs but she is not entirely with them either, blinking slowly and mumbling nonsense she lays propped between Antiope’s legs her head resting against her mother’s chest. Leaning on her side Giesela’s injured arm is draped behind her and over Antiope’s thigh where she cannot cause herself any more harm should she fall asleep.

The furious pumping of her heart from responding to the threat of immediate danger and fear for her child is quelled by the sight before her and then she feels every ounce of energy ebb from her. Bonelessly she falls into the chair by the dresser where she can watch the pair on the bed but before long her eyes are too heavy to keep open any longer.

Just before sleep drags her under completely Menalippe hears Antiope chiding Giesela gently, “See your mother is sleeping, now so should you.” Her last thought outside of dreams is to wonder if the smile she feels makes it to her lips. 

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After juggling military and royal duties with caring for their injured daughter the past week Antiope had finally given in to her General and Lieutenant’s forceful offers to step up and last night agreed to leave the army in the hands of Artemis and Diana, for one day at least. 

Knowing she could not help Giesela unless she first took care of herself though Antiope had settled on spending the first part of the morning at Marpesia’s while allowing her wife and daughter sleep in. Not long after taking a table Antiope had been joined by Celaeno, Senator Khasa and Phoebe. The three amazons had not been under Antiope’s charge as warriors for some time and aside from Celaeno, whom she met with often to choose horses for the army, she rarely spent time with the women and before Antiope knew it more than an hour had passed as they reminisced and shared new stories.

When the other women excused themselves after finishing their morning meals Marpesia sidled onto the bench opposite Antiope at the now empty table. It seemed every occasion Antiope passed her door Marpesia could be seen chatting with her regulars or amazons visiting the city for elsewhere on the island and the General imagined the other woman must be up all night cooking just to allow herself the time to do so and still keep everyone fed.

“How is your little warrior?”

“Displeased.” Antiope’s flat delivery is softened by her smile. She loves her daughter dearly as does every amazon who knows her but they are all aware that an unhappy Giesela is one best kept at arm’s length. “But healing,” she adds and Marpesia nods happily at that.

“I am glad to hear it.” A few more women arrive, Antiope recognises them as all carpenters or blacksmiths but she cannot remember which. She lifts her head to offer a polite greeting and the group smile back as Marpesia stands to see to her new patrons. “Do not leave without some of the bougatsa. Larina’s may be better but perhaps they might still brighten Giesela’s day a little.” 

“I doubt anything but sailing or running will do that but I am certainly not going to turn down an offer of pastries.”

Managing a hurting and grumpy Giesela this past week had been taxing, especially as for the first couple of days Giesela had been nothing but affectionate and clingy, desperate for comfort. Obviously Antiope did not wish harm on her child but it had been nice to feel so needed and to actually be able to do something to make the girl feel better. When Giesela had been in the bath with her bandaged arm set on the edge of the tub she had allowed Mena to wash her hair for her. Of course Menalippe then spent far more time than necessary kneading the soap into the girl’s hair. Giesela had even permitted Antiope to help her dress in the morning, taking great care to gently cradle Giesela’s arm to keep pain to a minimum.

But as Epione eased the girl off the pain medicine and the limitations of her injury became more apparent Giesela had grown frustrated with her current circumstances and irritated by just about everything. The first explosion of the girl’s dissatisfaction had been when the stitches had come out of her leg. With the bruising already gone and swelling down Giesela had eagerly anticipated returning to some of her regular activities. However with her arm still strapped up Epione was very clear on Giesela’s physical limitations and insistent she would continue to follow the healer’s rules until the bones had set. Five more weeks to heal seemed like a lifetime, for Giesela and for her parents and after Epione had left and her words sunk in, the realisation that she would not be able to join Mena on their usual morning runs to the practice grounds or be able to fight or go out fishing, Giesela had thrown an apple across the room with her good arm in a very toddler like tantrum. With the loud thud it made against the wall on impact Antiope knew they had been fortunate nothing heavier was within reach.

Then just as it seemed Gisela had grudgingly accepted this first setback they faced their second. In a few more days was the festival to honour Poseidon when there would be celebrations in the bays and coves around the whole island and the largest would of course be held near the Capitol. For the culmination of the Festival a fleet of boats would be out on the water in the evening lit by lanterns that made it look like the ocean had filled with stars and this year Giesela had expected to be out there with them.

Not long before the accident Antiope and Menalippe had promised Giesela she could finally join the other sailors but under Epione’s strict orders Giesela would now have to watch from the shore yet again. Through the entirety of dinner the previous evening Giesela had tried to persuade them both to allow her to leave the beach, promising to do more chores once her arm was mended, trying both guilt and flattery on them. When she was met continually with ‘no’ Giesela had stormed off to her room for the evening, slamming the door in her wake hard enough to shake it on its hinges.

After the apple throwing Antiope and Menalippe had still allowed Giesela’s behaviour some latitude, neither she nor Mena were much more agreeable when injured, but they had known they would need to address their daughter’s attitude at some point. In bed last night she and Menalippe had agreed to no longer indulge Giesela; the girl would have to be patient and accepting of her current limitations and if she could be neither of those things she would at the very least be expected to behave appropriately despite her emotions. They did not however expect this to go down well with Giesela.

Shifting the bag of pastries under her arm Antiope latches the gate behind her walks up the path to their front door, eyed the weeds appearing in the vegetable patch that will need dealing with later, for now a glare in their direction will have to suffice. Deliberating over what other chores she could get done in the garden as she steps through the door Antiope does not notice Menalippe sat at the table glaring unhappily at the door until she is about to toss the bag over to it and stops with her arm raised almost ready to let go of the bag.

While Antiope tries to think what she might have done this morning to upset her wife, Mena stands, tucks her chair back under the table without a word and then gives Antiope a hard look that lets the other woman know she had merely been waiting for the General’s return so she could leave the house.

“She is in her room.” There is a quietly seething rage in Menalippe’s voice and Antiope can see the redness of her wife’s eyes from tears.

Though she is a little wary of the answer Antiope asks, “What happened?”

“I think you need to ask Giesela that.” And Menalippe walks out the back door of their house without another word.

Antiope is at least a little relived by that; if Menalippe had walked out of the front door she may have been gone all day and possibly the night, clearing her mind of what has her so upset. In their youth and the early days of their marriage it was certainly not uncommon for Menalippe to stay away for a day or two. It was only after one argument when her wife been gone for four days that Hippolyta finally confessed to an almost frantic Antiope that Menalippe always came to her when they argued. Antiope preferred to deal with any disagreement using a flurry of loud and angry words or a good sparring session. After lingering words and bruises were taken care of you could always make up with wine or more intimate activities. Menalippe of course was entirely different and never wanted to do or say something in the heat of the moment she might not be able to heal or forgive later.

Over the years the couple had settled into a compromise; Antiope would inevitably storm off to take her anger out on a willing Lieutenant and Menalippe would take herself out the back of their house and sit on the porch where Antiope would leave her be until told otherwise. In this kind of mood Mena could sit silently gazing at nothing more than the chickens scratching for corn in the short grass for hours until she felt ready to come back inside to talk.

Gathering herself Antiope turns to their daughter’s room where at least the door is still standing in its frame. Inside she finds Giesela lying on her bed with her face so entirely smooshed into her pillow Antiope wonders how she can even breathe properly. The still splinted arm is draped uselessly beside the girl but her fingers are twitching tensely as she repeatedly curls them into a fist and then unclenches.

Antiope reaches back behind herself and raps her knuckles against the doorframe as if knocking for entrance and when Giesela lifts her head at the noise it is obvious she too has been crying. Sadly her daughter in tears has been an all too common sight when the teas Epione gave for the pain wore off and before Giesela could drink another but this seems different. And with Mena’s tears also, Antiope is no closer to understanding the drama that occurred in the few hours she was out of the house.

“I didn’t mean it,” Giesela sobs, sounding utterly broken and leaving Antiope even more clueless and concerned to what has she has missed.

For the second time she asks, “What happened?”

Giesela looks to the blanket beneath her, refusing to look at Antiope as she admits, “I said she couldn’t tell me what to do because…” She pauses, pulling at a loose thread of the wool before she stops and finally confesses, “She wasn’t my real mother.”

Antiope tries to control the sudden and unexpected anger that swells in her chest but Giesela stiffens telling Antiope she is not entirely successful in her efforts. In a rush to defend herself Giesela says, “I don’t know why I said it. I didn’t mean it. I just…”

When Antiope sits on the edge of the bed Giesela scrambles to push herself against the wall on the opposite side. With a sigh Antiope says kindly, “Sometimes when someone is angry or in pain they lash out, to make another person feel the same. They do not really mean to.”

Giesela seems to consider Antiope’s words; clearly the girl wasn’t lying when she said she did not know why she had said those things and grasps for the offered explanation of her own actions. 

“I understand what happened and that you are sorry, but that does not excuse your behaviour. You hurt Menalippe deeply.”

Even though Antiope’s words bring fresh tears to Giesela’s cheeks she seems far less despondent than a moment ago. “I know. I’ll say I’m sorry. I wanted to tell her but…” When Giesela tries to pull at the blanket’s threads again Antiope lays her hand on top of the girl’s to stop her. Giesela risks a quick glance at Antiope but lowers her head again to whisper, “I was scared to go back out there. What if she won’t forgive me?”

“She will.”

Antiope gets up and from the top of the chest of drawers takes a cloth from where it is folded over the rim of a clay bowl. For the first couple of days after the accident Giesela had been in too much pain to move around so they had kept a wash basin in her room and had not gotten around to tidying it away. There is a small pitcher of fresh water which always sits beside Giesela’s bed and Antiope reaches for it and then pours a little of the liquid onto the cloth above the bowl. Walking back to the bed she crouches down beside it and wipes the tears from Giesela’s face.

Then with a nudge she prompts Giesela to get to her feet, pulling the girl into a hug before telling her, “Go find Menalippe.”

Giesela does as she is told but pauses in the doorway where she can see Menalippe is no longer in the living area. When the girl looks to her again Antiope tilts her head towards the back of the house and Giesela knows just where to go.

Menalippe is sat out on the porch, not on the bench seat against the wall of the house but on the wooden decking itself. The porch is barely the height of a step or two but it evens the floor of the house against the slope of the garden. Slowly, as she only has the one arm to lower herself with, Giesela sits beside Menalippe. With her feet flat on the dry earth Giesela’s knees are raised just slightly higher than her lap but of course Menalippe’s legs are much longer and sitting the same her knees are high enough that she can wrap her arms around them.

Menalippe has not acknowledged her arrival but Giesela takes a deep shaky breath then says, “I’m sorry Mother.”

Menalippe unwraps her arms from her legs and twists her body to face Giesela. She doesn’t say anything but pulls Giesela into a tight hug, her arms slipping under the girl’s injured one to circle around her waist and Giesela doesn’t need to hear the words to know she’s been forgiven.

 

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“There.” Venelia announces as she finishes the single braid running between the thick golden hair rising like a wave from Arno’s crown to his forehead and the close shaved fluff that is so light it is barely visible. After countless ceremonies and formal functions Venelia and Diana have found it is far easier to get Arno ready first and then deal with their own outfits rather than trying to pin him down without getting their hair messed up or clothes in disarray.

Venelia can be satisfied that at least one member of their household is ready but with Diana still in the bathtub it is doubtful they will actually be at the Festival of Poseidon early as Hippolyta had commanded. Standing between her knees as she sits on the end of her bed Arno turns so Venelia can inspect her work thoroughly. Wearing a pale blue chiton with shimmering green and silver threads in the embroidery draping over his left shoulder (a pattern of Poseidon’s trident and fish scales) Arno looks every inch a Prince. All except for the frown on his lips and the sadness in his eyes.

Only a few weeks ago Arno had been ecstatic when presented with the new clothes for the Festival. It was one of his favourite celebrations, largely to do with it having the smallest amount of formalities and the fact he usually got to splash about with Wolf. But Arno’s anxiousness had been building over the last couple of days and while Diana hoped it was simply that Arno was disappointed he would not have his brother amazon’s company this year Venelia felt there was more to the lack of enthusiasm. But every time they had tried to get Arno to open up about what was troubling him the boy had closed off even more until they had no choice but to simply watch and wait.

Just as Venelia finishes tugging the cloth over Arno’s shoulder straight Diana comes into the room wrapped in a towel, her dark hair slicked in tendrils down her neck and the line of her throat. Her face lights up the moment she sees Arno. 

“You look beautiful. Very handsome.”

Arno manages to raise a weak little smile. “Thank you Mother.”

As she stands Venelia gives him a little push away from between her legs. “Go play. We will be ready soon so do not wander far. Or get dirty.”

“Yes Papa.” He is not supposed to run in the house but once he is out of their door Venelia can clearly hear Arno pick up the pace across their living quarters and the slaps of his feet hitting the stones steps down to the courtyard follow each other far quicker than they should if he were walking.

Venelia moves past Diana to fetch her dress for the evening but makes the mistake of glancing behind her at Diana’s bare shoulders, the taut defined muscles and glistening skin. Abandoning the dress for now Venelia wraps her arms around Diana’s waist and presses her lips to the wet skin at Diana’s neck. Between kisses she mutters, “You look beautiful too. He must get his handsomeness from his mother.” 

Turning in Venelia’s encircled arms Diana laughs, “His Papa is not too bad either.”

Venelia has already given up on the notion that they would arrive early so it is easy to convince herself that a few more minutes spent otherwise occupied before getting dressed will not make much more of a difference. When they do finally make their way down the stairs from the first floor living area they find Arno sat on the floor in the middle of the courtyard. Chalk markings left over from their sword drills are scattered across the stonework waiting to be washed away by the next rains or simply be worn off by their footsteps. For days that they remain clear Arno had invented his own games around them with his glass marbles; some of these games kept him entertained by himself while some he had come up with to compete against Astrid or the other children. Arno had allowed Philippus to play along with him once but he steadfastly refused to share the rules with any other grownup.

Diana has a hold of Venelia’s hand and her other she offers out to Arno as they walk by him to the gate. “Come along Arno, we don’t want to be late.”

“If we didn’t want to be late you should not have spent almost two hours bathing.”

“Hush. You’re only mad because I did not invite you to join me. And I don’t think we were late until you…”

Venelia gives a sharp tug on Diana’s hand that means ‘not in front of the boy’ but when she nods towards Arno she see he has stood up but is not moving to his mother. Staring at the floor and fidgeting from foot to foot he looks almost the way he had when they were training him out of cloths and he had reached the point that he simply could not hold on anymore.

Both women stop to regard him and under their gaze he finally speaks up. “I don’t want to go.”

“Arno.” Diana isn’t scolding at all, her voice is almost impossibly warm and full of concern.

As they both move to his side Venelia gathers the hem of her long dress in one hand to crouch down to his level. “But you promised to dance with me this evening. If you do not come who would I dance with?”

“You can dance with Mama,” he offers gloomily.

Diana sighs at Venelia’s failure to coax their son and joins them both, getting to her knees in front of the boy. “Why don’t you want to go baby?”

For a few moments Arno looks like he really wants to tell them but each times he opens his lips to speak no words come out. As he struggles his breathing gets faster until Diana intervenes. “No, no. Slow down baby.” Firmly she presses a hand against his chest. “Breathe.”

Arno stutters a little and then takes a big gasp of air as though he’s only just remembered how to breathe before tears fill his eyes. Diana gathers him into her arms and stands; while his arms are looped around her neck his legs hang limp against her as though he has totally given up any fight. Venelia presses close to Arno’s back and strokes the patch of fluffy hair above his neck.

The tears inevitably fall and with them Arno begs his mothers to let him stay behind. “I’ll be good I promise. I won’t even leave my room.”

Aside from an occasional nightmare that seems to puzzle him more than frighten once he is awake, Arno doesn’t remember anything bad from his life before Themyscira. He and Astrid getting in trouble in the ocean and then Giesela getting hurt are the most traumatic things in his life he has any clear memory or understanding of. Of course he would be scared something terrible might happen again.

While Diana is softly hushing him, Venelia tells their son, “Nothing bad will happen to you Arno. We will be with you the whole time. And Grandpa and Grandmother will be there. We will all protect you.”

Her words only make him whimper and sob more and it takes another full minute for Diana to calm him enough that they understand his words again. “But someone else will get hurt. Because of me.”

Venelia sees her own sudden understanding reflected in Diana’s eyes, and her partner is quick to reassure their son, “No baby. What happened to Giesela wasn’t your fault. It was an accident.”

It takes a handful of promises and a lot more faith before Arno is somewhat satisfied that no one else will get hurt, a least enough that they can get him to agree to come to the beach tonight. Venelia thinks that they all, Arno included, know there will be a far longer conversation ahead of them but for now they will focus on getting through this evening. 

When Arno holds his arms out for Venelia to carry him like when he was a toddler she is happy to indulge him. She would carry him all the way down to the shore and keep him in her arms all night if it made him feel safer. 

They are not far from the beach when Arno asks her, “I know I said you could dance with Mama, but you’ll still dance with me right?”

Smiling at Diana over the crest of Arno’s hair Venelia laughs softly. “Yes, of course I will.”

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A few hours before sunset the streets of the Capitol fill with amazons making their way down to the beach. Astrid sits on her bedroom window ledge watching impatiently instead of joining them as she waits for her mother to finish dressing. When Khasa arrives below her to knock at their door Astrid shouts down, “She’s still getting ready.” 

“Well someone should tell your mother the tide will not wait for her to fix her hair,” Khasa calls back only for Epione to open the door right in front of the woman, shaking her head in annoyance. Astrid leans further out of her window and can just about see the slight scowl on her mother’s face but Khasa is not intimidated. “Evening Epione. You look lovely.”

Khasa leans in and kisses her friend lightly on the cheek then looks back up to Astrid and gives her a wink. Astrid is still giggling as she runs down stairs to meet them both at the door. 

Astrid holds her mother’s hand as they walk along with Khasa and are then joined by Derinoe; at one time she would have done so in fear of so many strangers around her, but now these women are her neighbours, her friends, her family. And though she may be older now Astrid is sure she will never be so old that she won’t enjoy the feeling of Epione’s strong hand wrapped around her own and how the woman swings their arms together a little as they walk.

Leaving the firm cobbles of the coast road the procession of women take the path of chipped stone that leads past the Temple of Poseidon to the sands. Unlike most of the Capitol’s Temples this one dedicated to the God of the sea and storms is not carved of marble but constructed out of wood. Its pillars and walls are built of grey-white driftwood, trees that had finished their life on the land and been struck down in fierce storms. Carried by rivers down to the sea they were then swept back to shore again and claimed for a new purpose. In the late afternoons and evenings when the shrines of Artemis, Athena or Apollo would be busy this temple remained quiet and solemn, still like a calm ocean. It is only in the grey light of dawn under the glow of oil lamps that it comes alive with singing and grows smoky from the burning of incense before the fisherwomen began their day on the water.

On the beach they find wooden tables lining the shore, placed so that when the tide comes all the way in later that evening the warm water will be at their occupants’ ankles. At the top of the beach where the sand gives way to scrubland a driftwood altar has been raised to place the votive offerings to Poseidon. Astrid knows from the previous years she has attended that there will be a simple ceremony once everyone has gathered, where Hippolyta will lay the first offering standing beside Cordelia and the Priestess of Poseidon. Then while they waited for the darkness to fall the amazons would eat and drink and dance before finally the torches on the beach would be put out so everyone could watch the boats in the bay light up.

Epione makes her way to a table that Shirin has already claimed, her assistant waving them over, but for now Astrid is more interested in investigating the dozen or so cooking pits Marpesia has along the beach preparing various types of fresh seafood. Astrid runs along the soft sand stopping at each of the woman stood over their own fire to find out what will be on offer after the rituals have been observed. There is white fish and giant prawns blackened from grilling over open flames; crabs, mussels, clams and lobsters all being steamed and scorpion fish in clay pots buried and baking in the sand.

“Did you find something you might like?” Shirin asks when Astrid eventually returns to sit with them. The girl hasn’t eaten since lunch knowing they had the feast ahead and in response her stomach grumbles for her, making Shirin laugh. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Dramatically Astrid throws her head back. “I’m starving. When can we start?”

Her mother taps the back of her head indicating she should sit properly before telling her, “I promise we can eat soon.” Shuffling back in her chair Astrid spots Arno arriving with his mothers.

“Arno,” she shouts, probably louder than she should judging by the look her mother gives her. “Come sit with us.” But Arno shakes his head franticly and looks up to Diana instead of coming over.

Diana’s voice is loud enough to carry but is far less shouty than Astrid’s had been, “We will come see you in a little while.” 

Astrid feels a little disappointed for a moment but then Shirin hands her a chunk of seaweed bread and she doesn’t mind so much. After a few mouthfuls of bread Astrid looks up again and notices Arno hasn’t gone to sit with Philippus, Antiope and Menalippe either. He is standing with his mothers still on the grassy edge of the beach, tugging back on Venelia’s hand whenever she tries to take them nearer to the water.

Astrid puts the remaining bread back down onto the earthen plate in front of her, her belly suddenly full from the heavy ache of sadness that has settled there. At the moment the sea looks calm and blue, its shade getting deeper as the sun begins setting and the light dims, but out of the corner of her eye occasionally Astrid sees the white foam of the crest of a small wave coming in to shore and thinks of the ones that could have drowned them. As she keeps watching Arno she thinks that must be all he is seeing when he casts wary glances back to the water while he stays near the scrubland, Hippolyta showing him the altar and then Egeria walking with him along the cooking fires Astrid had already inspected.

Her appetite recovers quickly after the Priestess has conducted the official offerings and everyone around her begins eating. Artemis had joined their table too and before Astrid hops out of her chair the warrior tells her which of the dishes will help make her strong and fortunately most are ones Astrid likes: prawns, lobsters and crabs. However Astrid refuses to touch them while they still have eyes and claws and tails (she squeals when Shirin waves a large lobster claw at her) so Epione spends much of the meal taking the meat from the shells for her.

In the fading light the women add to the gifts laid before the altar; fish hooks and lures of feathers and thread, beautiful coloured ropes in sailor knots, fresh fish, salt and sweet seaweed bread. Slipping away from her table when she sees no one else at the altar Astrid gives her own offering. A few days ago she had bottled a little of the cerulean water of their ocean and in the apothecary her mother had helped her boil it down to sparkling salt crystals. It had taken Astrid until late last night to finish sewing a small silk drawstring purse to hold the salt from a pattern Phoebe had given her, made of a yellow green cloth the colour of kelp.

Astrid spots a space free beside a large candle and stretching up on her toes slips the purse into place. She had never made an offering of her own before though her mother often took her to Artemis’ Temple and in Thessaly she had visited the Temple of Dionysus with Ilse. She was a little unsure if there were any special words she should say but figured the prayers of the Priestess and Hippolyta earlier probably covered her. 

“Thank you for keeping us safe. For helping Giesela get to us and making sure we all got back to shore.”

When darkness eventually falls Astrid is sat beside Diana, the chairs all moved away from the tables and turned to face out to the horizon. The tide is all the way in now, the water lapping around their ankles, and as Astrid perches on the edge of her chair to wiggle her toes in the sand Diana splashes her legs with little kicks.

“You’re not allowed to splash,” Astrid whispers to her, then checks over her shoulder that Epione’s attention is elsewhere before flicking water and clumps of soggy sand up Diana’s leg. They both grin at each other and narrow their eyes waiting to see who will move first but their game is quickly interrupted.

“Diana,” Hippolyta warns her eldest daughter. But she gives a very stern look to Astrid too. 

“Sorry Mother.” When Diana turns away from the Queen she rolls her eyes at Astrid as if she is not scared at all of her mother’s warning. Of course Astrid knows better because Diana does not try to splash her again with Hippolyta watching them.

Arno only conceded to joining everyone if he could be on Hippolyta’s lap but he seems to have missed the fun of his mother being told off, staring out into the darkness with his hands tightly wrapped in the leather straps of Hippolyta’s skirt. On the other side of Astrid sits Menalippe and Giesela. She is sure that the older girl must still be taking her teas from Epione because she is snuggled up awfully close to Menalippe with their chairs pushed together.

The sky and water in front of them looks all the same black and in it they watch the lights on the boats flicker into being one by one; four then seven, twelve, twenty three, forty… until Astrid can’t count anymore there are so many, along with their reflections all shimmering as the boats bob on the calm ocean. Poseidon is obviously keeping the waters tranquil so as not to ruin the ceremony in his own honour.

Sat with the twinkling light of the boats before them there is talking and laughter in the darkness. Most of the stories that are shared are of mishaps and adventures on the ocean that Astrid has not heard before, even at the previous festivals and she is hopeful that the women of Themyscira have lived so many years that they will never run out of new stories for her to listen to.

Amongst it all she overhears Menalippe murmur by Giesela’s ear, “Next year, moro mou. I promise.” Astrid has never heard Menalippe call Giesela her baby before and she is sure it is that and not the pain medicine that makes Giesela smile back at her mother the way she does.

Near the end of the evening, closer to morning than night, Astrid is on Khasa’s lap fighting off sleep. Soon the lights of the boats will be fading in the rising sun and many of the women have begun to head home but Astrid does not want to miss a single moment. Her mother had already told her they would be leaving themselves soon and was just saying her goodbyes so Astrid did not have hold out too much longer. Through heavy lidded eyes Astrid watches Arno a couple of seats over finally dare to slide forward on Hippolyta’s knees to dip his toes in the water, a hesitant grin back on his lips. When he looks back up at Hippolyta she simply says, “See. All is well.” 

Astrid blinks slowly and the next moment her mother is lifting her from Khasa to carry her home to bed and the girl doesn’t protest at all. She does want to tell Arno she hopes he believes his grandmother, she certainly does, but she can wait to tell him that in the morning because she is far too tired to do anything else but yawn.


	7. They Grow Up So Fast

After only a few sips of this morning’s fruit juice Hippolyta could tell the kitchen had used the white peaches that had come into the market yesterday and is grateful someone had the foresight to dilute their immense sweetness with water. She has her cup raised in front of her as she listens to Philippus but just before it reaches her lips a sudden thump into Hippolyta’s chair leg causes her hand to jerk. By some miracle she manages to not spill any of the sticky contents down her chin but a splash of the drink sloshes from the cup over her hand. Licking the orange droplet from just below her thumb (which she admits is not particularly regal) Hippolyta looks down to the floor for the cause of this mild annoyance, knowing precisely what she will find. 

Sure enough under the table Evandre’s dog Fen is crawling on her belly across the flagstones. The round table they are sat at for the morning meal is barely large enough to conceal the animal and it is Fen’s wriggling that led to the animal’s haunches to bump into the chair. Fen seems utterly oblivious to her size giving her away and persists in her attempt to slink back under the table to beg the boys for food. Scolding the dog and continually shooing her away most of the morning has not produced much of a result so this time Hippolyta fixes Wolf with a warning glare across the table. “Lykos,” she growls softly. One of the boy’s hands is beneath the table top and Hippolyta does not need to see the slither of meat between his fingers to know it is there and that it is what has tempted the dog over to him. 

Her youngest grandson has not long turned six and is now as headstrong, adventurous and independent as the rest of the children but when caught up to mischief he can still present an innocent baby face in the hopes that being the youngest might get him out of trouble. And it is a familiar look, with his long hair of messy but not quite full curls Wolf resembles Evandre more and more with each passing day, though the colour of his is a dark blonde like orange blossom honey. 

When Hippolyta shows she is not swayed by Wolf’s attempt to appear above reproach he promptly snatches his hand back up and confirming her suspicions the boy drops a piece of pork onto the edge of his plate as Fen slumps to the floor whining in disappointment. 

Sat on her right hand side Arno rolls his eyes as though he would never try such a thing. At nine years of age now the older boy has been endeavouring to act more responsible and mature, probably in an effort to keep up with Astrid who had just this summer grown out of some of their antics. As if that did not leave him out of his depth enough Arno was also struggling to adjust to his first growth spurt and still unused to how long his legs have become he accidently kicks Philippus’ outstretched legs across the table from him while attempting to move out of Fen’s way. Hippolyta knew the last thing Arno wanted to hear was how these things only made him appear as young as he was desperately trying not to be. Sometimes she simply missed the little boy she could hold on her lap, the boy who would probably have outdone Wolf by trying to sneak the dog directly into the kitchens for a feast not just feed him under the table.

It was only the four of them at breakfast today, Hippolyta, Philippus, Wolf and Arno, but still it was more crowded than their usual tables now Diana too had moved to her own home. Philippus had taken to teasing Hippolyta over the many invitations she would make to their friends and family or visiting amazons to dine with them but Hippolyta knew her wife also longed for the days when there was never an empty seat at their table. At least for the summer break from school they had Wolf with them, leaving Deianeira and Evandre at home in Abila, and today Arno had turned up unexpectedly just as they had sat down to eat. It seemed Diana and Venelia were either both so busy they could not sit down to a full meal with their son this morning or more likely the boy had wanted a second breakfast and knew exactly where to find one.

When Philippus straightens in her seat nudging the table herself Hippolyta takes a second to glare at her wife trying to decide if the other woman was doing it on purpose or not. In the end she decides Philippus is only attempting to avoid Arno’s gangly limbs. Once she is successful Philippus turns her attention to the boys to say, “I thought perhaps you two would like to go hunting with me tomorrow.” 

In high pitched excitement Arno and Wolf’s voices clamour over each other as they both eagerly agree to the offer and then ask if they will be going to the mountains or the forests, what they will hunt, whether they would get to use bows or spears. When Fen’s ears pick up and the beginnings of a howl starts in the back of the dog’s throat Hippolyta steps in before complete chaos can ensue. She only has to raise her hand palm out above the table to get Arno and Wolf to calm and catch their breath and Fen settles to the shift in the mood around her. 

Arno stretches over the table to scoop another boiled egg out of the wooden bowl that is closer to Philippus than himself. His fingers are left grasping until his grandpa nudges it a little closer and then after struggling a moment with the shell he sheepishly holds it out to Hippolyta. While she rolls the egg on her plate to break the shell and then picks off the delicate pieces Arno tears a chunk of bread from what remains of the loaf and then rips at it with his teeth like a wild cat. Around the mouthful he says, “Kheuke took down a bear when she last went hunting.” 

“Arno do not speak with your mouth full of food.” 

Arno has the good sense to swallow before muttering ‘sorry’ and taking the egg back from her. Looking cautiously at his grandpa Arno asks, “Do you think we’ll see a bear?” 

She and Philippus had discussed the intended trip last night and Hippolyta knows Philippus will only be taking the boys to the Pholóē forest which is full of rabbits, squirrels and pheasants, certainly no bears. Her wife however leans in over the table, waiting for Arno and Wolf to do the same, then as though she is letting slip a highly guarded secret whispers, “We shall have to find out tomorrow.” Arno’s blue eyes widen in a mix of excitement and fear.

Philippus sits back immensely pleased with herself and as Wolf slides to the edge of his own seat to whisper with Arno, Hippolyta takes the opportunity to swat at her wife’s thigh. Quietly she asks, “Why must you tease them so?”

Philippus doesn’t answer her, instead she catches Hippolyta’s hand and brushes her lips across the knuckles. The intimate moment is interrupted by Wolf’s giggle at their display. He is lucky he has shuffled closer to Arno and Philippus is almost on the opposite side of the table to him now or she would have snatched him up for kisses too, simply to teach him a lesson for giggling. What Philippus does do is continue to hold Hippolyta’s hand even as she lowers it, their arms stretched across the space between their chairs.

Hippolyta would like nothing more than to spend a day with her love and her grandsons but her duties demand she and Philippus both be elsewhere. Hippolyta will no doubt be sequestered in her office until the afternoon and Philippus is to meet with some potential Palace Guards. What the boys have planned for themselves she has no idea. “So what will you both do today?”

Philippus adds gravely, “Make it good, it may be your last before you get eaten by bears.” To underline her words Philippus drops Hippolyta’s hand to pounce forward from her chair and grab Wolf around his middle, fingers digging at the ticklish spot just beneath his ribs making him howl with laughter. Fen jumps up not certain if she should be alarmed or is just missing out on some fun and in the process almost upends Arno from his chair. The cacophony makes Hippolyta rethink her sentimental notions earlier toward sharing meals with her family or spending a whole day with her grandsons if her wife is around to rile them up. 

Once released by his grandpa Wolf turns back to his breakfast plate, apparently needing some more nourishment to ponder how to spend his day. Arno tugs on Wolf’s arm knocking the bread that had almost been to his mouth from the younger boy’s fingers, when it hits the plate there is a light clatter and crumbs scatter across the table top. “We should go to the training grounds. See if Otrera will let us practice on the archery ranges.” 

Since he was a baby Otrera has been one of Wolf’s favourite people in his whole world and his eyes light up at the suggestion. “Can we?” he asks. Arno does not need their permission but Wolf has made the extra effort to follow his mothers’ instructions of ‘do as your grandmothers tells you’ during his stay at the Palace.

“Of course.” Instantly both boys’ hands reach to the arms of their chairs to push themselves up. “After, we have finished breakfast.” 

Not too long after that the empty plates are stacked and then Wolf and Arno kiss both their grandmothers goodbye and tear out of the courtyard. Despite all the times they are told to slow down the children will almost certainly run through the corridors of the Palace to collect Wolf’s bow from his room and then chase each other down the hill to Diana’s house to collect Arno’s weapon. They will just have to avoid Venelia or Larina in the corridors if they hope to make it to the archery range this morning without delay or punishments.

The dog follows the boys at a much slower pace, gazing a little reluctantly up at the table ever hopeful some more scraps might come her way. When Fen does climb to her feet to go after the children Hippolyta notices Philippus slip the dog a chunk of cheese as she passes. She just catching sight of Fen’s tongue hanging out and swiping at her nose for any trace she may have missed as the animal leaves the courtyard.

“That dog ate perfectly well this morning Philippus, it does not need scraps from you.”

Philippus simply shrugs. “She will run it off chasing after the boys.” Hippolyta can’t argue with that as they hear Fen’s claws skittering along the polished floors of the corridor hurrying to catch up with her charges. 

The last bite of cheese from her plate Philippus tosses into the air and catches in her own mouth as she stands. “I have to get on duty. Circling the far side of the table she passes Hippolyta’s back to exit the courtyard and her hand brushes Hippolyta’s shoulder. The Queen tilts her head up to receive her wife’s kiss and Philippus’ hand moves up into Hippolyta’s loose hair, gripping tight and pulling her closer. Their customary light kisses when parting have grown far more passionate since their home has been without children or grandchildren and it is something Hippolyta has grown mindful of, reminding Philippus when they do have guests that it might be somewhat unfitting for visiting dignitaries to see their Queen left breathless by the General of the Guards.

Even after Philippus has left Hippolyta is still a little dazed and breathing heavily from their kiss and she has to gather herself when an attendant appears without a call to clear the table. Not for the first time the Queen wonders how Larina manages to know the movements of everyone in the Palace, often times before they themselves even do. 

“Thank you Hypsepyle. I will be in my study all morning if you could have refreshments brought there.”

The woman flashes Hippolyta a smile as she gathers the plates. “I think Larina has already seen to that my Queen.”

“Of course she has.” Hippolyta lets out a soft laugh realising she should have known better. 

The large windows that usually flood sunlight into the study are shuttered leaving the room cool but too dark for Hippolyta’s mood today. As she sifts through the parchments on her desk wondering if she should light a lamp or open the shutters Hippolyta notes only the dispatches from across the island need to be immediately seen to and she can instead take the work out to the veranda. 

Setting the pile of papers on the metalwork table Hippolyta leaves the heavy inkwell for her responses balanced on top to prevent escape on a passing breeze and then steps back inside the reception room beside her office to the table of refreshments. Three large clay jugs had been laid out in preparation as Hypsepyle had told her. The first is filled with a golden coloured fruit juice, the second a red wine so dark it was almost black but Hippolyta picks up the third and fills a cup with spring water before heading back outside. 

Hippolyta is midway through the report from Kios regarding their crop rotations when Giesela joins her on the veranda. At one time the girl would have nodded, given a proper ‘morning my Queen’ and then waited not so patiently for Hippolyta to finish whatever work lay in front of her, fidgeting the entire time but trying to appear not to. This morning Giesela bounds up the steps from the lawn presumably having entered the gardens from the east gate and presses a light kiss on the Queen’s cheek. “Morning Aunt.” 

Heading straight to the cushioned stone bench by the veranda’s low wall Giesela collapses onto it while Hippolyta scratches the final signatures to the bottom of the documents. The young woman rests one foot flat on the seat, knee bent and throws an arm over her eyes to block out the sunlight. At nineteen years old now Giesela is in truth no longer a girl though much like Diana and Evandre at the same age she has not managed to shake all the sensibilities of childhood, which can be both endearing and infuriating in equal measure. Though with Giesela not being her own baby Hippolyta has found navigating the girl’s path into adulthood far less trying than it had with her two daughters.

“Morning Giesela. How was your run?” 

The arm falls away from Giesela’s face and she turns her head to grin widely at Hippolyta, her eyes bright with glee. “I almost beat Mena today.” Hippolyta remembers when Giesela had sounded just as delighted the first time she had simply completed the run from her home to the training grounds and still been able to stand at the end of it. That had been almost two years ago and their morning greetings still started with Hippolyta asking after the morning race between Giesela and her mother. Giesela’s joy would be even greater if she know the secret Hippolyta did, Menalippe having confessed only days ago to her sister in law that she was struggling more each day to keep her lead on Giesela. 

Hippolyta signs the final page, tapping the excess ink from her quill before gathering the loose leafs of parchment and patting them against the table top to straighten the pack. “Could you return these to my desk please Giesela?” 

They both step inside the wide doors to the reception room but as Giesela takes the papers through to her office Hippolyta goes to the table to return her empty cup. Beside the jugs Larina has also placed a small bowl of tepid water with bright pink and lilac petals floating on the surface. Hippolyta dips her fingers into the fragranced water to wash off the ink stains and then dries her hands on the neatly folded cloth next to the bowl. 

With the correspondences completed the two of them can take their customary walk through the gardens. As soon as it was decided Antiope and Menalippe would take Giesela in themselves Hippolyta had insisted she have time alone with her niece, hoping to foster a relationship with the girl and wanting to give Giesela everything her sister and sister in law had offered her own daughters. 

Years had since passed but Hippolyta could still recall their first walk like it had been mere days ago. Giesela had been far too skinny then and so pale in her face despite her tanned arms and legs that the dark circles under her eyes appeared a deep bruising purple. Giesela’s pale blue eyes, drowned with grief and sorrow, had always been searching the space around her for dangers that might be hiding unseen and the entire time Giesela trailed a little behind Hippolyta on the paths so the Queen never left her view. Now they frequently wandered the stone chipped pathways side by side and sometimes on frosty sunlit mornings in winter Giesela would use the chilled air fogging her breath as an excuse to loop her arm through Hippolyta’s.

The girl had spoken more to Hippolyta that first morning as they strolled through the landscaped flowerbeds and kitchen gardens than she had since arriving on the island. She had asked thoughtful pointed questions about Themyscira, about how Diana and Evandre grew up, their schoolwork, the things they liked to do as children and the places they would visit. Hippolyta was certain her daughters had shared at least some of these details with Giesela, Ilse and Astrid on their journey and it felt more like Hippolyta was being tested than the girl genuinely seeking answers. Giesela’s questioning had the same feel as Timandra taking apart a proposal of Hippolyta’s, testing the strength of every piece of it to see how well the whole would hold up. 

Today Giesela is walking a little ahead, spinning around and taking a few paces backwards while she answers a question of Hippolyta’s or when she wants to interrupt her aunt with some point of her own. She is as spirited and engaged as Hippolyta has come to expect of her niece on their walks so it is telling when Hippolyta ask Giesela what she plans to do with her time after the summer and she is met with only a shrug, the girl’s eyes remaining fixed on the path ahead. 

Giesela will not be going back to the schoolroom with the change of seasons but she has yet to decide how she would like to contribute to amazon society. Her procrastination over the issue is even more frustrating given that Astrid, a full eight years younger, is already showing interest in taking up an apprenticeship with a musician or in metal smithing when her schooling comes to an end. Perhaps though it is as unfair to equate the two as it would have been to judge Evandre but Diana’s actions. 

Hippolyta knows her niece well enough now to see there is obviously more Giesela wishes to say so she keeps the conversation going to give the young woman time to work up the nerve to speak. Mentioning Astrid’s future intentions would only rile Giesela up so instead Hippolyta tells her of Diana’s turbulent schooling, having decided to be a warrior from the time she could walk her eldest could barely wait to be done with the schoolroom at the age Giesela was now. After sharing a story of Diana that Giesela had not heard before, the princess leading Mnemosyne on a chase through the royal stables when she refused to attend class, Hippolyta notices a faint smile returning. 

Giesela stops on the path ahead and turns to face her aunt. “What about Evandre? Did you always want her to be a councillor? To do work like you?” 

“No,” she answers honestly but cannot help the soft smile that tugs her lips knowing that in the end Evandre’s path had led her back to walk beside Hippolyta’s. “I thought she would be an artist. Her work is beautiful but she never felt it was her true calling.”

“How did she know?” It is painfully obvious that what Giesela wants to ask is how she will know herself what her vocation is to be. But breaking Giesela of the guarded habit of not talking about herself is an ongoing battle her family continue to fight. 

Hippolyta and Evandre have spent many nights sat out under the stars pondering the tapestry the fates had weaved to bring her daughter to where she was. Hippolyta has to consider a moment the simplest way to explain even a part of those discussions to Giesela. “Evandre has found comfort and stability in the role she plays in Abila, shaping the town and its place in Themyscira. Sometimes I think it gives her the purpose she once felt she lacked.” 

Unconsciously Giesela nods her head at Hippolyta’s words. Just as Evandre had when she came of age Giesela questions her place amongst the amazons, even more so given she had not come here as an infant. Only time would tell if the rest of the children would go through the same struggle. 

Back in full inquisition mode Giesela narrows her eyes at Hippolyta. “But you are glad she followed you into governing?” 

It feels like a trick question and luckily Hippolyta has had much practice avoiding such leading queries when navigating disagreements with Philippus and Antiope. “I would have been pleased with anything Evandre chose to do that made her happy.” 

She had hoped those words would finally break Giesela’s reticence to speak about herself but when Giesela turns back around to continue walking along the path Hippolyta reaches out and wraps her fingers around the girl’s wrist before she can take more than a step. “I thought we were done playing these kind of games Giesela?”

The nineteen year old’s face flushes and she keeps her eyes downcast as she takes a deep swallow like a suitably reprimanded child. There is a bench just up ahead in front of the lavender bushes, Hippolyta motions for her niece to sit and the young amazon is wise enough not to argue. 

For only a moment Giesela takes her bottom lip between her teeth then her eyes dart to Hippolyta and she immediately releases it. “I think I know what I want to do but I do not know if Antiope and Menalippe will approve.”

“You want to be a sailor,” Hippolyta states matter of fact and Giesela’s eyebrows arch up in surprise before scrunching together from the mild annoyance she feels over her aunt seeming to know everything. She narrows her eyes at Hippolyta and for the heartbeat that she fixes the older woman with an obstinate glare she is all Antiope and the Queen wonders not for the first time how this girl is not of amazon blood when she is so much like both her mothers. 

Finally Giesela huffs a breath then admits, “Yes.”

“Tell them Giesela. I think they may surprise you.” The girl looks so cautiously hopeful at those words that it is almost painful to see, wanting so much for what Hippolyta tells her to be true. Then in a flash the vulnerability is gone, hidden away behind a cheeky grin.

“If they don’t can I tell them I have the Queen’s approval?” 

Pushing Giesela up from the bench to continue their walk Hippolyta tells her firmly, “I am not playing that game either.”

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After leaving her aunt to do whatever dozen things it is a Queen must do in a day Giesela heads directly to the harbour to seek out Adea. The two of them had not made any plans for the day but the older amazon had grown used to finding Giesela waiting on the docks for the boats to come in on the days that she did not have school and Giesela had taken the fact that Adea made no attempts to avoid her as confirmation that her presence was not unwelcome. Giesela had always assumed she would be seen as a child by every amazon and her friendships would remain limited to Ilse and Astrid, Arno and Wolf but somewhere along the way Giesela had been surprised to find Adea was now her closest friend and confidant, that what had begun as the easy comradery of frequent crewmates had grown into a friendship beyond the water.

“Giesela!” She had not even placed one foot on the wooden dock before Cordelia caught her arrival. Only a few yards away stacking the emptied wooden lobster pots the Harbour Master asks, “Have you come to make yourself useful?” 

Given this morning’s conversation with Hippolyta the innocent question gives Giesela a slight slinking feeling in her belly. “Not today. I’m just here to meet Adea.” 

Cordelia rolls her eyes as she hefts another pot up on top of a stack already five high. “Then be useful tomorrow. I’ll expect to see you before sun-up.” 

“Yes Kyrios,” Giesela answers formally before she can stop herself, realising only after the words leave her mouth that she will now have to tell Astrid they won’t be going riding tomorrow morning. She will make it up to the girl by promising to watch the next wrestling tournament with her, something Giesela would normally find any excuse to get out of. Honestly she finds the laborious event incredibly boring with few moments of excitement. But Astrid is always so eager to explain the positions and strategies and to reel off the competition history of each contender to Giesela that it is hard to deny her. The gesture would not go unnoticed either, Astrid is well aware of her dislike of going and the fact that she only does so to make the younger girl happy. 

Giesela spots Adea and Helene at the end of pier two. The women must have been partnered for spear fishing this morning as they are with one of the unloaded two crew boats, Adea crouched inside scrubbing down the hull. Helene lifts her feet lazily out of Adea’s way when necessary but is more focussed on running a cloth and whetstone over the blade of a spear. 

No one volunteers for the job of washing out the boats so Giesela assumes Adea had lost the coin toss with Helene to have that job fall to her, though she doesn’t understand why Adea continually falls for the ruse as Helene never seems to lose. Giesela is convinced that the rough roman coin Helene always carries with her for luck is surely weighted somehow for her benefit; even if Giesela is being charitable with her suspicions she can only conclude that Helene’s constant rubbing of one side between her fingers has misshaped the thing unintentionally in the sailor’s favour.

Giesela shouts out a greeting to them both and when she gets alongside the boat Adea is leaning out over the side to rinse and wring out the rag. Murky reddish water splatters to the wooden decking before Adea plunges the cloth into the bucket then pulls it out and slaps it wetly back in the hull of the boat. When Adea’s almost black eyes fix onto Giesela the younger woman can’t help but smile and despite her current unpleasant task Adea does the same. 

“I wondered if you could join me for lunch,” Giesela asks. She had been looking directly at Adea but Helene makes a noise in her throat to make herself noticed. While Giesela enjoys the other woman’s company she really hopes Helene is not angling for an invitation too as the intention was to share this morning’s discussion with her aunt with Adea alone. 

Adea throws the rag toward the bucket on the dock, it hits its target with a splash and suds plume out of it. 

“I was planning on heading to the lagoon,” Adea tells her, wiping her wet hands down her short trousers.

Giesela is certain this is a rejection but Adea smirks at what the younger amazon assumes is the dejected look on her face. “What I mean is, you can come with me. If you want to.” Adea reaches down and grabs a canvas sack from the small compartment at the end of the boat, tossing it up to Giesela. “I have plenty of food to share.”

Adea would have eaten something for breakfast from the bag first thing this morning out on the ocean but it remains hefty. Obviously Adea had not planned on stopping anywhere between here and the lagoon, she would live on the water if she could, but Giesela judged that the contents could still feed an entire crew. 

Holding up the bag up a little as Adea hops onto the dock to indicate its weight Giesela answers, “Yeah, I can tell.”

Unamused Adea snatches it back. “Do you want any or not?” Her voice is stern but Giesela knows she only means it in play and holds up her now empty hands in surrender, which of course Adea accepts. 

At the lagoon they find Adea’s personal boat pulled up onto the shore and anchored in the sand. Giesela had been with Adea when she had sailed the craft to the sheltered waters while the tide was high enough to get the twin hulls of the boat over the reefs. It isn’t as fancy as some of the other pleasure boats, just a light wooden frame holding what looks like two individual vessels together. There is a single platform in the centre for the sail and the rest of the frame is strung with thick rope netting in place of a solid deck.

They raise the sail but there isn’t much of a wind and the pair of them have to sit straddling the bow of each of the hulls and paddle the boat to the centre of the lagoon where they throw the anchor out. Neither of them had eaten since the early hours of dawn so they first share the toughened strips of smoked meat, apples and creamy soft cheese in a wax shell that Adea had tucked away in the sack. Then they stretch out on the netting, cradled just above the water’s surface. It feels familiar and easy lying next to each other with the coolness of the water at their backs, the shade of the sail cast over them and only the soft sound of the water lapping at the hull while they talk. 

They chat about the fishing and about their daily lives. They argue over the best parts of plays they had seen and books they have both read. In confidence Giesela reveals Antiope’s efforts to teach her to dance, Adea gossips about Damaris’ attempt to woo some visiting merchant. 

Once staring up at the empty blue sky Giesela had talked about before Themyscira. She had shared perhaps two dozen almost insignificant moments she had kept safe in her mind that told her she had had a happy and loved childhood once. And she had also told Adea the story of the day the soldiers had taken it from her. The sky is the same blue today but this afternoon there are white wisps of clouds streaking through the expanse like the crests of waves in the surf. 

“I need some advice.” Giesela’s fingers play with the netting, forgetting that with their shoulders pressed together Adea can feel the movement until the older amazon gently slaps the top of her hand. 

“Go on.” Adea draws the two words out longer than they need to be and Giesela can feel the hot breath tickling her ear. 

“If I joined the fishing fleet, if Cordelia let me, do you think I would be any good at it?” Giesela may have told Hippolyta it was the opinion of her mothers that troubled her but in her heart she knew her aunt’s words were true; Antiope and Mena would support her no matter the decision she made even if it was not the one they would have chosen for her. Her larger fears, the ones she was loath to admit to, were all in her own abilities. 

While she waits for Adea to answer Giesela follows the path of a hawk through the sky above. She is unprepared for Adea thumping a closed fist against her upper arm. With her mouth hung open in disbelief Giesela turns her head to question her friend, the netting pressing against her cheek. 

Adea has pulled herself up onto her elbow after the unprovoked attack, grinning down at Giesela. Before the younger amazon can form any words Adea tells her, “Of course you would be good at it! How stupid are you?” 

“Wait, are you insulting me or supporting me?”

Adea never babies her but every now and then she gets a look that very clearly lets Giesela know she has a lot to learn. Right now that look is twinned with a bit of an arrogant smirk. “I can very easily do both.”

They both settle back into the netting, Giesela rather dramatically rubbing at her arm and Adea swotting her hand away. “Oh stop it.” 

When they are still again Adea turns more serious. When she speaks again it is not Giesela’s friend Adea but her Captain, though Giesela had found early on that her Captain was just as likely to grab her in a hug or tease her mercilessly as her friend was. 

“There are still plenty of things to learn Giesela, but you are a natural on the water. Cordelia would be lucky to have you. We would all be lucky to have you.”

The younger woman is pretty sure from the heat of her face that she’s blushing and her suspicion is confirmed by Adea’s breathy laugh. She pretends not to notice focusing instead on a pair of gulls nearby screeching at each other. When the gulls fade the rest is silence and they stare at the sky watching a cloud slowly swim across the blue above. 

After a while Giesela feels Adea tapping a strip of the dried smoked pork against the back of her hand and takes it from her friend. Bringing it to her mouth Giesela tears off a piece, she has it held to her lips still when she lets out a groan. Adea shuffles a little against her but before her friend can ask what the noise was for Giesela says, “I have to tell my mothers.”

Regardless of their support Giesela will still have to face at least a day of Antiope claiming Giesela has broken her heart by not becoming a warrior. Of course Menalippe will feel the same but she will be far more discreet about it; Mena’s disappointment will likely be expressed in a sudden increase of chores for her daughter and probably an extra lap of the city added to their morning run. 

Adea barks out a laugh. Giesela knows her friend is thinking the exact same thing she is and yet she is finding the whole thing amusing. “Good luck with that little warrior.” 

This time it is Giesela who strikes suddenly but to her annoyance as she prepared to throw herself onto her friend she finds Adea is already rolling across the netting away from her. Giesela ends up having to scrabble after the older woman before tackling her and sending them both tumbling into the water. Surfacing with a sputter Giesela can’t quite bring herself to be disappointed when she finds Adea running her hands up over her face and pushing back her black hair, looking as though she is exactly where she meant to be all along.

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With each new moon Hippolyta would take a small escort and ride out to meet those of her people who lived just outside of the Capitol’s walls. Many of these women would have had no need to petition the Senate or the city’s Councillors in the course of their work but still Hippolyta wanted to ensure every amazon knew they had their Queen’s admiration and thanks for their efforts. 

The locations she would call on included the paddocks and stables, a number of fruit orchards, the vast wheat fields and small farm holds, the harbour. In all her years on Themyscira Hippolyta had never known a time when any of these visits were like the one before; the women would come and go bringing new faces each time and the seasons though perfect were never identical and always threw up some new challenge. Also Hippolyta’s memories of each place were woven through with those of her girls growing up. 

As if it were yesterday she can clearly see Philippus in an orchard by the east wall chasing after Evandre at four or five, their little girl proving to be more of a nuisance than a help when it came to picking apples. When Evandre had wanted to pick some herself they had discovered only once she had her head in the branches that the girl was terrified of climbing the flexible soft wood ladders propped up against the trees. The same Evandre who would someday throw herself off high cliffs into the sea for the fun of it had screamed and wailed and refused to move. She had only grown louder when Philippus had climbed up after her and she could feel the ladder shudder beneath her papa’s weight along with her own. 

In the end Philippus had had to pry Evandre’s fingers from the rung before she could grab the child around the waist and bring her down. Then Evandre had cried herself to exhaustion in Hippolyta’s arms refusing anyone else’s comfort, leaving the Queen of the Amazon Nation stood amongst the trees with a basket of apples strapped to her back and a baby in her arms. 

She can almost see too Diana’s hand skimming along the tops of high fluttering ears of wheat. Just turned thirteen she had been skinny and tenacious, joining the warriors assigned to harvesting the fields. Ignoring all of Hippolyta’s warnings her eldest daughter had insisted she could do everything the warriors did now she had begun formally training under Antiope but in no time sweat was dripping down her red face as she struggled to keep up. 

Just like Hippolyta though, Diana did not know how to give up on anything she wanted and had worked all three days with her assigned group. Each night she had fallen asleep at the dining table too drained to even finish her meal and Hippolyta or Philippus would carry her to bed cradled in their arms just as they had when Diana was still small and wore herself out daily trying to stay one step ahead of Mnemosyne and her classroom. 

Hippolyta and her small contingent of Guards were now on the final stop of the day, the training grounds. As they ride up Hippolyta can see Sophia moving amongst the war horses with an oat bucket and another amazon almost hidden by the great flank of an Arravani, brushing down the large horse’s coat. All the animals are snorting hard and glistening with sweat, signs they had been worked hard during the morning sessions. 

Sophia lets one stunning white horse finish the oats from the bucket and then sets it on the floor where the animal nuzzles at it only to be disappointed to find it now empty. Melo steps forward to meet her and help gather the reins of the Queen and Guards’ mounts and lead them over to the water troughs. Egeria and Aella remain at Hippolyta’s side but she dismisses them with a nod, surrounded by her army an escort is not required so Hippolyta can allow her Guards some time to test their skills against their warrior sisters, well aware that Philippus and Antiope’s good natured rivalry extends to the women serving under them. Without hesitation Egeria heads eagerly to the knife throwing ranges dragging Aella with her. 

Giesela had not told Hippolyta of her plans for the day and the Queen doubts they would include here unless ordered by her mothers but she does expect to find the younger children. It is Astrid who catches her eye first, practicing under Artemis’ guidance. The eleven year old is wrestling a massive sack filled with heavy flour that is almost the same size as she is. With a grunt Astrid hefts the bag to a height well past her knees and throws it back to the ground, white plumes of flour puffing out of the stitched seams when it lands. Hippolyta has no doubt that in time Astrid will match Penthesilea or even Artemis in strength alone but Astrid is also quick, an ability that eludes Artemis, and Hippolyta would not take a bet against the student surpassing her teacher one day. 

Usually when Antiope is not available to greet her arrival Hippolyta would have to search the training grounds for her sister, finding her caught up cheering on a sword bout on the lowers levels or engrossed in studying a warrior’s form with a bow. Today rather than prowling amongst her warriors Antiope is stood atop the stone steps overseeing the whole arena and her scrutiny is reserved for Diana alone. 

Antiope had discussed with Hippolyta in advance her plans to step back and allow Diana to oversee a day’s activities but the Queen is impressed Antiope’s patience has held out long enough for her to achieve it or keep her from interfering. Antiope’s distance could of course be an act, knowing when the Queen was scheduled to arrive, so Hippolyta will have to have words with Menalippe later to confirm if her General had truly handed over the reins for an entire day. 

Hippolyta climbs the stone steps noting the bright green moss creeping along the mortar, that the steps are not clear of the plant indicates Antiope has not felt the need to punish one of her soldiers in quite some time. For when running additional laps or carrying heavy weights does not feel like chastisement enough or punishment at all Antiope reserves the task of scrubbing the steps of the arena with horsehair brushes. More than once Hippolyta had visited the training grounds to find Evandre and Otrera on their knees hours into the task and with hours still ahead of them. 

Antiope does not take her eyes from Diana even as Hippolyta comes to stand beside her. “You spoke with Giesela today?” 

Antiope knows full well Hippolyta had met with her daughter as they did most mornings and had been asking the same question almost every day for the past month hoping Hippolyta might have some news for her. Of course this morning there is something to tell her sister but Hippolyta decides to have a little fun before putting Antiope out of her misery. 

“I thought you were the one who made the reports to me General?” It is hard to hold back her laugh when Antiope levels the exact same glare at her that Giesela had earlier in the day. To appease her Hippolyta offers, “I think she may come and speak with you and Menalippe tonight.”

Satisfied Antiope nods and then focuses her attention back the activities below them. With practiced ease Antiope begins to reel off a staggering list of figures and statistics, giving Hippolyta her report on the checks and balances of recruitment, equipment, transfers and postings. 

The General brings her report to a close just as Diana comes bounding up the steps with eagerness and a smile curving her lips. At the top though Diana halts abruptly before them and schools her features into an impassive mask. 

The younger woman bows her head and mutters with stiff formality, “My Queen. General.” 

Hippolyta does not need to look to her sister beside her to know it is now Antiope who is struggling to keep a straight face. As Diana was growing up and testing every ounce of her mother’s patience, Hippolyta had trouble seeing ways in which her daughter was anything like her. It was Antiope who would point out Diana’s utter earnestness in every task she set her mind to and with a smirk tell her, “Oh Sister, I wouldn’t fear. She is just like you.” 

In this case Hippolyta hopes it is more Diana’s apprehension in getting the job done perfectly that leaves her so dispassionate and not that she thinks she is emulating her mother. Should Antiope find this a new source of amusement however at least Hippolyta will be able smirk at Antiope and say the same for her and Giesela.

Diana launches into the same report Antiope had given, precise and thorough but with the assistance of a few notes scratched onto a scrap of parchment she had tucked into her bodice. Diana even blushed when she had to resort to using it and fumbled the hidden notes from her clothing. Only when she is done does the Lieutenant seem to relax back into being simply Diana, the tension in her shoulders dropping away and a smile fluttering at the corner of her mouth. 

Relieved Hippolyta asks her, “How goes the boys’ archery practice?”

Diana glances over her shoulder to the ranges but their view is currently blocked by the crowd of women around the wrestling arenas. “Wolf will be fine.” 

“And Arno?” Hippolyta prompts, noticing Diana did not comment on her own son’s progress. The older boy is quite astonishing with a sword for his age, so swift and fluid in his movements it is difficult to track his blade. He is also able to flick the weapon between hands and use it just as well in either, a very rare talent. Yet when it comes to the ranged weapons like spears and bows Arno has proven to be spectacularly hopeless. 

“He is having fun making bets with Otrera on how many targets he can miss.” Diana shrugs with an accepting smile. Antiope sighs and shakes her head, obviously not as willing to call the boy a lost cause just yet.

After thanking them both Hippolyta approaches Otrera and the boys and gets the chance to see Arno’s skills, or lack of, for herself. She watches the archer wrap Arno’s fingers around the bowstring and then cradle his elbow to show him how high to hold his arm before lightly kicking at his right foot to widen his stance. Hippolyta had seen Otrera help Evandre just the same way many times, though Evandre had been a little older than Arno at the time and a lot more prone to blushing from the attention. 

Once Otrera steps back Arno screws up his mouth in concentration, focused solely on the target in front of him. The boy draws back his bow with what seems to Hippolyta to be perfect form but when he lets go of the string the arrow veers wildly to the right of the shield at the end of the range and embeds in the trunk of a tree. Wolf is lost in a fit of giggles that prompts Fen to get to her feet and bound around his legs. The little boy’s laughter only dies down after a word from Otrera and the dog collapses back to the grass. Arno does not seem disappointed in his failure at all, in fact he looks delighted to be entertaining his cousin. 

When Otrera notices Hippolyta nearing them she straightens her posture a little, just short of standing to attention. Fen who had been sure to drop in the shade of the weapons rack twitches her brows slightly and whines a little but that is about as much effort as the dog is prepared to make for the Queen. 

Genuinely pleased with himself Arno asks her, “Did you see, Grandmother?”

“I saw. You had excellent form with your shoulder, you need to work on holding it longer.” 

Eagerly Arno nods at her words, “I will.”

“I thought if you both are done practicing you might like to ride back with us?” For some reason both her grandsons find riding in the entourage of Queen’s Guards far more thrilling than it actually is. When they were both a little younger it had been an easy promise to garner good behaviour from them though if she had simply asked if they wished to join her visiting the Senate building Hippolyta was certain their response would have been very different.

Otrera ruffles Wolf’s hair and kisses the top of his head before sending him on his way. At one time she would have done the same to Arno but now he would only wriggle out of her way. Instead she slaps a hand on his shoulder, tightening her grip a little as she tells him he did good work today. The way he beams up at her Arno is the picture of his mother. 

Fen seems to realise a little late that both boys are on the move racing for the horses and has to chase after them. The dog does not catch up in time to direct Wolf away from running straight toward the wresting rings and when his feet skid on the chalked circle and fine terracotta gravel of one of the circular arenas it is Artemis who deflects him from the path that would have taken him right through the middle of a match. 

“Sorry,” he shouts to her while still running, obviously wanting to beat Arno to the horses. 

“Have fun tomorrow,” Otrera calls after them both. 

Only Arno spins around as they run to yell back, “We will.” 

Hippolyta follows at a more measured pace, pausing by Diana to remind her daughter that she and Venelia are expected to dinner this evening. Antiope still watches over from atop the steps and as Diana is promising not to be late Hippolyta just happens to notice her sister’s eyes shift subtly toward the lower tiers of the training grounds. Those levels are usually reserved for the sword bouts and listening with interest now Hippolyta can hear a change in the distant sound of clashing metal. 

Before Hippolyta can advise Diana of some shift in the activities out of their sight her daughter lays a hand on her arm. “Excuse me Mother, I have to see to something.” When Hippolyta glances over her shoulder Antiope is gracing her with a very disapproving glare, as though she had caught Hippolyta about to help Diana cheat on an examination. 

In the wake of the boys her Royal Guard are also converging back on the horses. Egeria throws one last knife as she is already stepping away from the range, casually tossing it without much more than a glance to check the path is clear of her sisters. The knife embeds in the centre of the shield target with a loud thud just as she takes her place at the Queen’s side leaving an incredulous Penthesilea at the top of the range shaking her head. 

“Do at least try not to look so smug Egeria,” Hippolyta murmurs for her Guard’s ears only.

“Yes my Queen.” Typically Egeria’s self-satisfied grin widens before she bites down on her lips gaining control of herself. 

The boys are already sat atop their horses when Hippolyta and Egeria reach them and in no time the party is riding down the wide coast road from the cliffside training grounds. The outer city wall towers above them to the left with its great reliefs sculpted into the white-gold coloured stone showing the faces of the Gods and beautiful geometric designs. On their right the ocean stretches to the horizon, the sun glistening on the azure blue surface so bright it almost hurts the eyes to gaze on it for too long. 

Fen has to trot to keep stride with the walking horses, skirting around the outside of the group to keep her strange herd together. Occasionally the dog will stop to sniff at something of interest and then have to rush back through the middle of the column of horses to catch up before breaking in front of the pack and circling back to the outside edge. 

Along the route they pass the spot where Hippolyta had caught Diana numerous times leaping recklessly over the city walls. For all the times when no one had been there to stop her Diana would find her way home to Hippolyta with skinned knees, scrapes across the palms of her hands and torn dresses but largely unharmed. 

As the armoury tower looms ahead of them Wolf tugs the reins of his stout little horse to bring him closer to Hippolyta’s mount. Given the height difference of his horse the boy’s head is about level with Hippolyta’s hip and he looks up at her with pleading eyes to ask if they can stop at the tower and see inside. “You said someday you would show us.”

Arno chimes in with, “Today. Today can be someday.” Then as though suddenly remembering his manners the older boy adds, “Please.”

Drawing closer to the tower now they can see its sheer smooth walls thrusting from the uncarved stone around its base and seemingly flowing over its top. Hippolyta always thought it looked as though the builders had simply chipped away at a mountain until they found a perfectly formed tower beneath the rock. 

“Very well,” she agrees to a small cheer from Arno and Wolf.

Two of her soldiers stand on duty at the armoury entrance. Not all days can be spent testing their skills on the training grounds and Hippolyta knows every one of the warriors considered standing sentry to be the least enjoyable of their duties. Regardless both are alert and professional, already standing to attention before they even catch sight of their Queen’s approach. 

Egeria holds the reins for both the boys’ horses as Hippolyta moves beside Wolf’s to help the smaller boy down from his saddle despite his protests that he can manage just fine on his own. Once his sandaled feet hit the ground she lets go of the boy’s waist and even though they are excited, Wolf tugging at Arno’s tunic wide-eyed, both of them wait patiently to follow her inside. 

The dark wood entrance doors are twice her own height but they seem to loom over the boys. Once they close behind them the small crescent windows set at their top let only a little light into the single narrow corridor which leads into the armoury itself, intended to make the journey dark and imposing as final warning to those who enter that might not have leave to. The long passageway leads directly into the central courtyard where looking upward the walls start to look as though they lean inwards the higher they go, leaving only a small circle of blue sky above. 

This was the place the sword Diana’s had mistakenly called the God Killer as a child had once been housed. Now there is only an empty space where it had sat, inside the decorative golden sphere that resembles something between a shell and a gilded cage. 

Off the courtyard are corridors that lead to more than two dozen rooms with similar displays of powerful treasures. While nothing had been put in to replace the sword the armour Diana had once taken was back in its place and the lasso too and Hippolyta was thankful for every new day that passed that these and this mighty vault’s other prizes were not required for Themyscira’s defence; the armour of Achilles, the aegis and labrys of Zeus, Themis’s sword of justice, Artemis's bow and many more all in the Amazons’ safe keeping for antiquity. 

Hippolyta allows the boys’ curiosity to guide them through the maze of rooms, tugging each other eagerly from one to the next. They have heard the stories and seen pictures in their books of most of the items but those they do not know they gape at in awe while listening intensely as Hippolyta tells them each pieces’ history. Even with it being only the three of them in the tower Hippolyta finds it hard not to whisper and the cold stone walls still echo her voice. The boys are just as hushed, their faces lit by flicking torchlight reflecting off deep golds and shining bright steel. 

Returning to the courtyard and the fresh but still close and humid air, Hippolyta leans her back against the cool brickwork. Gazing at the empty stand were the sword had been Hippolyta is lost for a moment in the memory of the day she had come with Diana to return the items that had been taken to Man’s world. Tears had been in her daughter’s eyes as she apologised for destroying the sword but Hippolyta had been holding a very tired and ill-tempered baby in her arms, offering her finger to Evandre to suck on to keep her pacified until they returned to the Palace and could feed her, and the Queen could not find it in herself to rebuke Diana for the choices she had made. 

Wolf however has no such protection when he rushes past her hip chasing after Fen. The dog bounds back into the central courtyard and turns to face Wolf, bouncing on all four paws and letting out a bark which ricochets off the high stone walls.

“Lykos!” 

Not used to hearing her speak his name in such a severe manner Wolf guiltily stares at the floor and whether responding to Hippolyta’s voice or Wolf’s behaviour, Fen’s barking ceases abruptly. Typically Hippolyta will bring her grandsons in line with a gentle word but they both know better than to misbehave in this place.

“If you cannot control Fen she will have to wait outside.”

“Sorry Grandmother,” the boy mumbles in apology. He then scolds Fen in turn though the animal was only following his lead. When Wolf commands Fen to sit and stay the dog settles on her haunches with her tail sweeping across the flagstones and panting heavily. Fen must be satisfied with her young master’s safety in the tower as she readily stays in place while he ducks back into the corridors to go look again at the collection of daggers.

While Hippolyta’s attention was with Wolf Arno has crept up close to her as quietly as a sharp blade across silk. Without thinking she runs her fingers up through the crest of his hair and somewhat surprisingly he does not squirm away or wave his arms to ward her off. Hippolyta studies Arno a moment thinking perhaps the day’s activities have worn the boy out more than he would admit. 

“You always call Wolf that.”

“Call him what?” she asks as Arno settles to sit on the floor beside Fen, crossing his legs to wait for his little cousin to finish doing whatever he has run off to do. When Arno doesn’t answer her question Hippolyta takes a moment to consider what he might mean. 

“Lykos?” she asks eventually.

“Uh huh.” Arno’s fingers play in Fen’s unkempt fur and Hippolyta thinks she must make sure Wolf sits with the dog tonight and grooms her. “Why do you call him that?” 

She can hear the faint sound of Wolf’s feet hitting the stone floor as he runs around inside the tower and recalls when he was far too small to make such a racket, at least not from moving around under his own power. When she could cradle him with one arm and hold a tiny foot in her hand. He had always been her Lykos. 

“I never really thought about it,” she answers honestly. 

Hippolyta is not sure what has prompted this questioning from her eldest grandson until he declares gloomily without looking up from Fen’s fur, “You don’t call me anything but Arno.” 

Sweeping her long skirt up against the back of her knees Hippolyta settles herself onto the floor beside Arno. He sneaks a little surprised look at her as she stretches her legs out in front of them, raising her knees slightly. His Grandmother has sat with him many times playing wooden soldiers or reading books in the rooms and gardens of the Palace or in his own bedroom but the Queen doing similar is quite rare. She rocks towards Arno, giving him a little nudge before she asks, “Would you like me to call you something other than Arno?”

As stubborn as every amazon before him Arno only shrugs as though he doesn’t have a care either way. 

“Do you know what Arno means in Germanic?” The children have all studied a vast number of languages but she is sure Arno has not used his native tongue for as long as he can really remember. Arno has given up trying to hide his face from her and she watches it scrunch up as he thinks if what she has asked him is something he has forgotten or even something he ever knew. 

Arno’s blue eyes are a little glassy when they meet hers. “No,” he admits.

Hippolyta regards the place where the sword had once been, considering now that perhaps the stand looked more like a golden egg waiting to hatch. “It means as strong as an eagle.”

“Really?” His question is a little breathless, his eyes falling to the eagle motif on her leather armour, the royal crest. 

“Truly.”

They sit together just a little while longer before their peace is disturbed by an unintelligible shout from Wolf somewhere inside the tower. Hippolyta lets out a deep sigh before she stands not relishing finding out what Wolf has done while out of her sight. Fen doesn’t move from under Arno’s hand until the Queen holds out her own and pulls him to his feet, only then does the dog decide to investigate Wolf’s bellow. 

“Come Aetos, let’s see if we can get Lykos out of whatever he has gotten himself into. Or we will be the ones late for dinner not your mothers.” The boy has a wide grin on his face and Hippolyta matches it with a smile of her own when Arno keeps hold of her hand as they leave the courtyard to find Wolf together.


	8. The Child Is Only A Memory

Loose stones crunch beneath Giesela’s boots with every impact and kick out behind her in little clouds as she drives forward; the thick leather soles may be soft and flexible, ideal for running, but she would much prefer to be in sandals racing through the meadows and orchards than pounding up the path to the training grounds. Giesela still didn’t know what she was thinking last night agreeing to this madness but somehow her parents had convinced her to agree to take part in the upcoming annual games, something she hadn’t done since she was a girl. There had been very little pressure at fifteen trying her hand at the first rounds of the knife throwing competitions and running a solid effort in the footraces to place just short of last but to stand even a chance of not embarrassing herself now Giesela would need practice. A lot of practice she conceded after finding herself panting through the sharp pain in her chest when they had barely began.

It had been far too long since she had joined her mother on a morning run up to the training grounds and as the pair continue to climb the winding hillside Giesela keeps her pace measured even as her muscles scream for her to slow down and the back of her thighs burn. Menalippe has kept stride beside her the whole way but since they raced out of the alleyways of the city below Giesela’s focus had solely remained on the ground a few feet in front of her and chasing that distance down. 

“There is no need to run so slow for my benefit,” her mother taunts. 

Lifting her gaze from the path Giesela catches the challenge in Menalippe’s eyes. She knows her mother’s intention is not competition but to push Giesela up to and beyond any limits she might place on herself; right now though she wants nothing more than to beat Menalippe up this damn hill.

Digging in deep Giesela pumps her arms to sprint around the last corner of the path, taking two shallow steps in a single stride and manages to win their race by a mere couple of paces as they both skid to a halt panting from the effort.

While doubled over with her hands on her knees Giesela feels Menalippe pat her on the back. “Good run.” Infuriatingly Mena has regained control of her breathing already while Giesela is still gasping around the taste of copper in the back of her throat. “I’m going to go find your mother.”

Antiope had ridden out at the break of dawn when the sky was still a warm dark orange from the sunrise. Glancing up through the sweat dampened hair hanging over her face Giesela sees the sky is now a clear blue grey in the weak light of morning. Antiope’s departure had only been a short while before Giesela and Mena left home themselves but neither of them can run as fast as a horse and Enyo must have gotten Antiope here some time ago. Giesela straightens her back and searches the field for Antiope but the General is nowhere in sight to greet her or Menalippe. In the distance she can hear her mother’s raised voice though, likely from one of the plateaus below. Despite the painful stich in her side Giesela smiles, glad she does not have to train anymore to get yelled at in just that way. At least at home she is only likely to raise a disapproving growl when she is not quick enough to obey her mothers.

Finally able to both stand and breathe properly at the same time Giesela takes in the scattered groups of women milling about the field talking with each other as they stretch out sleepy muscles, using each other for support or loosening up sitting and lying in the grass. Their Lieutenants are already hard at work though setting up various areas for the target practices and bouts that will go on throughout the day. 

Near a stand of trees she spots Diana moving a weapons rack and trots over to help; being half God-half Amazon Diana hardly needs the physical support but Giesela can at least save her a few trips to the trunks of stored weapons and back. In the end she probably only slows Diana down as each weapon seems to come with a story and just like when Diana had looked after Giesela as a girl the older woman loved to share a story. 

A set of engraved curved blades prompts Diana to recall the time she had been six and thrown her first knife, bouncing it off a target and unintentionally striking Antiope when they had still been training in secret. As Giesela fills quivers with specialist arrows Diana shares the story of Otrera setting the record for the amount of arrows fired in the count of a minute that still held today. The tale Giesela enjoyed the most was of the many, many occasions Evandre fell flat on her backside attempting to load a gastraphetes.

They are arranging the final items on the rack when Diana tells her, “Evandre and Deianeira are visiting in three days.”

Giesela had received a letter saying as much in which Deianeira had asked if Cordelia could spare her to go riding. Giesela had already begged her Kyrios to allow her a day off to spend with Deianeira, Wolf, Arno and Astrid and planned to make as much time as she could to spend with them during their stay. If they were lucky Ilse might even visit when Timandra returned for the next Senate sessions and all her family would be back in the Capitol together for the first time since the last annual games over a season ago.

“We’re sending Arno to Mother for the night and having a dinner with Melo and Hypsepyle.” Giesela has her attention fixed on spacing out a fan of daggers for easy selection but she does not need to be looking at her cousin to know Diana is searching for a reaction when she adds, “You and Adea should join us.” The implication of why Giesela and her friend should share an evening with the three couples is perfectly clear. 

Giesela rolls her eyes before turning to Diana. “You know it’s not like that.”

“No?” Diana counters playfully. “If I were to guess who you are going to spend your day with…”

“Diana, please.” Despite her best efforts Giesela’s plea sounds more than a little pitiful but at least it is effective and Diana quits the teasing immediately.

With the weapons rack readied Diana throws an arm over Giesela’s shoulder and walks her under the shade of the trees. “Seriously, come to the dinner. None of us will presume you and Adea are anything more than friends.” Giesela does not believe that for a second; Diana, Venelia and Melo are all hopeless romantics in their own relationships who do not hesitate to inflict it on others and if Evandre were around she would torment Giesela far more than Diana’s subtle but relentless hinting. 

Giesela only offers Diana a promise that she will think about it which is more than enough to keep Diana happy but the younger woman knows she and Adea will most likely go regardless. Since Giesela’s twenty-first birthday a few months ago she and Adea had been close to inseparable, and more and more of that time was being spent in only each other’s company. It had not taken long for Diana to begin alluding to the possibility of a romance and Giesela had been at turns both amused and annoyed by the suggestion. Then Giesela had begun to consider exactly what Diana was seeing that she did not, only now she wished she hadn’t because she could not help but notice Adea wetting her lips when they spoke or how wherever they walked Adea would lean close to Giesela and their arms barely touching would feel more intimate than when Adea pulled her into a purely platonic hug. 

The few moments that Giesela wasn’t enthralled to distraction by the changes in Adea’s behaviour she only fretted over how she herself might be acting; she could not deny that the sight of Adea’s tongue against her lips or the light graze of her arm sent her heart racing but did her skin burn red even if she didn’t feel a blush? Was the blue of her eyes swallowed by black when she looked at Adea? Giesela considered confiding in her cousin, having so many questions she wanted to ask Diana, but each time Giesela thought of doing so she struggled to find the words until finally she was overcome by the fear that she would only make a fool of herself and chose to stay silent. 

Leaning her back against a tree Giesela slides her hands behind her feeling the bark scraping across her knuckles and lifts her right foot, pressing the sole of her boot against the trunk. Diana seems a little hesitant to leave despite having more work to do and as she often has Giesela marvels how the older woman always seems to know when she wants to talk, an uncanny ability Diana shared with Hippolyta. Giesela had spent many evenings at her cousin’s home sat in the shadows of firelight with Diana waiting patiently for Giesela to share what was on her mind. 

Well she would have to wait again because Giesela may be another step closer to the point of breaking and asking for Diana’s advice on her relationship with Adea but she certainly would not discuss it here on the training grounds. Where anyone might overhear. 

“Don’t you have to go check in with my mother?”

Diana pulls a face which is very unworthy of both a Lieutenant and Princess of the Amazon Nation but of course it makes Giesela laugh anyway. “I’ll see you later,” Diana says before she turns and heads off to find Antiope, jogging down the grass steps to the lower level arenas.

Not ready to head home just yet Giesela finds Penthesilea and Trigona warming up for their first bouts and the pair eagerly confirm the rumour Giesela had heard of Otrera ending up in one of the Capitol’s rivers after too much wine. Pen even provides a few glorious details that the surprisingly unembellished gossip had been missing. However when Giesela hears Antiope’s voice growing louder, a signal of the General’s approach, she decides to take her leave and promises to catch up with the pair later. If she were to be noticed now by her mother, Antiope would be sure to interrogate her on how she plans to spend her day off and Giesela is certain that if those plans do not include joining training her mother will gladly provide her with a list of chores at home such as fixing the latch on the chicken coop or gathering some of the vegetables and ripe berries from their garden.

The air is still morning crisp and Giesela allows herself a slower run back home, taking one of the more scenic and gentle routes that leads her around the blacksmith yards and by the artists’ workshops. As soon as she is through the door at home Giesela hops through the living area pulling off her boots; they drop one by the dining table as she pauses to tug at a stubborn knot in the lacing and one behind Antiope’s chair by the fire just short of her bedroom door. The running clothes she leaves in a single pile on the floor of her room, replacing them with a cornflower-blue cotton dress and finally snatching up a pair of light fawn sandals that will be perfect for the walk to Trichonida Lake, less than an hour from the city. 

A quick search of the kitchen yields only some flatbread leftover from yesterday’s meal that might be suitable to take with her. Deciding if it turns out to be too stale to eat they can always feed the fish or the ducks Giesela wraps the bread in a piece of cloth and then folds the parcel up inside the light blanket she is taking. Before leaving Giesela dips her hand into one of the containers on the kitchen counter and as she steps through the back door scatters corn kernels on the ground for the squawking chickens.

She had agreed to meet Adea at the crossroads outside of the city and takes the path beside the orchard, sticking to the shaded side of the route. An inquisitive brown and grey striped wildcat springs up from the grass to walk along the wall beside her, butting into the thigh until she reaches out to stroke its fur. Not far along the animal loses interest when Giesela doesn’t offer anything more than a quick scratch to the back of its neck and bounds back into the tall grass, off to chase some field mice. 

Up ahead Giesela sees Adea already waiting, sat on the grassy bank of the road leaning against another low stone wall. Giesela wets her lips before letting out a sharp whistle and Adea looks up at her grinning. The dark haired sailor hops to her feet with a blanket of her own tucked under her arm and then reaches down to fumble for the few cushions she has also brought along. 

When Giesela reaches her Adea has a precarious grip on two of the cushions which continue to slide lower and lower pressed between her forearms and body. Adea’s fingertips grab at their edges to try to prevent them falling and with a look of pity Giesela takes them from her friend.

“Do we really need all these?”

Adea has perfected the look she throws at Giesela, the one that means ‘you have so much to learn’. 

After only a few minutes of walking they are off the hard roadway and in the woods, the soft soil carpeted with moss and wet grass springy beneath their feet. The air is cooler amongst the trees and the noise of the city fades away to a few birds chirping and leaves rustling in the wake of small scurrying animals or the wind. 

Amazed that Giesela started their day off with a run at the break of dawn Adea boasts that she only rolled out of her bed when it was almost time to meet. “I can’t remember the last time I slept so late,” she adds dreamily.

In no time the densely packed trees open up to the shore of Lake Trichonida. Almost all sides of the lake are surrounded by woodland but to the west lies an expanse of flat meadow and in the distance they can see a few of the taller buildings of the neighbouring town of Masis above a treeline. Giesela has only visited the place a few times but she can easily pick out the shapes of their council chambers, a temple and a grain silo against the blue of the sky. 

Three upturned canoes lay beside the water for anyone to use and Adea drops the blanket and cushions onto the grass beside the closest one before running her hands along the hull to inspect it. Satisfied with what she finds Adea turns the vessel over and reaches down to do the same on the inside. 

“Well, it definitely will not sink,” she proclaims tossing the blankets and cushions into the canoe and then shoving it toward the water leaving a deep furrow in the dirt. 

With no currents or other vessels to worry about there is no need to anchor the boat once they reach the centre of the lake and they allow it to drift a little in the gentle sway of the water. Adea pulls her dress over her head and drops it to the floor of the canoe, leaving the older amazon in just her underclothes, her chest free of any confining fabric. Not too long ago Giesela would have blushed furiously and done her level best to look at just about anything she could find that wasn’t the practically naked woman in front of her. But being frequently out on the open ocean for hours on end with a number of other amazons had given Giesela plenty of opportunities to get over the awkwardness and embarrassment of such things. She was not so over it as to go topless herself however and when Giesela’s own dress lands in the boat on top of Adea’s she still has a simple band of dark cotton across her breasts. 

They both jump into cool water, paddling for a few moments and splashing at each other before they acclimatise to the frigid water of the lake and it begins to feel warm. Leaving Adea to float by the canoe where she prefers to kick her legs idly to stay afloat, her head tilted back simply enjoying the feeling of water all around her, Giesela swims away with strong long strokes. 

The water is a clear silvery blue not the bright colour of their ocean waters, with darker areas where forests of pondweeds grow beneath the surface full of darting fish. Swimming back Giesela surfaces with a gasp inches from Adea. “I saw fish down there as big as dogs. We should have brought our rods.”

Adea shakes her head as she grips the side of the boat and hauls herself back over the side, rocking it in the water as she flops down. She holds out a hand for her friend as she says, “It is our day off Giesela. No fishing please.”

The air is hot and dry even over the water and after only a few minutes of laying under the sun the two women can pull back on their dresses. At either end of the boat a plank of wood provides a bench seat and Giesela and Adea sit in the well between them, their backs against one side of the boat, Giesela with her knees drawn up and Adea with hers stretched out and hanging over the other side. 

The blankets and cushions provide a comfy nest protecting them from the chill of the wooden sides where the canoe sits low in the water but Giesela can still feel the coldness shifting on the back of her shoulders and neck and against her forearm where it lies outside the edge of a blanket. There is no doubt this is far comfier than being out fishing in the cold morning mists or riding the ocean waves through driving winds and rain.

As Giesela listens to the pops of fish coming up to catch insects on the water’s surface and the buzzing of dragonflies she watches an osprey far across the other side of the lake sweep down and snatch up its prey. She can feel Adea’s eyes on her though and rolls her shoulder and hip to get onto her side, bringing their faces within inches of each other. Neither of them move and all the other sounds seem to fade until there is only their slow matching breaths to be heard. As she leans closer though Giesela can hear the pounding of her heart roaring in her ears too.

She watches Adea’s eyes shut and her lips part anticipating their meeting with Giesela’s. When she presses her mouth to other woman’s she can feel the weight of Adea moving toward her but when Giesela’s tongue brushes against her bottom lip Adea abruptly pulls back. 

The older amazon scrabbles onto the bench behind her leaving Giesela in the well of the boat alone, staring up bewildered. “I thought.” Giesela doesn’t really know what she thought though and it feels more like she is asking Adea to tell her. 

Adea’s hands fuss in her lap as she refuses to look at Giesela. Half-heartedly she murmurs, “I’m sorry. We can’t.”

“You don’t feel the same.” The eager fire in Giesela’s belly of a few moments ago sputters out in disappointment and instead she feels the burn of humiliation. While Giesela is cursing herself for being so foolish as to risk their friendship for a stupid kiss she almost misses Adea’s response. 

“No. I do.” 

Adea’s attempt to clarify only brings more confusion. So Adea does feel something for her, but in spite of it she pulled away from the kiss. Giesela runs it over and over in her head and Adea definitely, hastily, pulled away. Giesela pulls herself onto the second seat and grips the wooden plank beneath her, one hand either side of her thighs. “I…” Giesela struggles for a moment to know what to say but in the end only has, “I don’t understand.” 

Adea looks up finally and Giesela knows her friend well enough to read pain and regret in her face before she speaks, “You’re still a child.”

Giesela feels as though she’s been punched, the words producing a sudden empty pain in her stomach that robs her of her breath. Unconsciously bringing a hand up to her chest she gasps, “Take me back.” 

The older woman doesn’t move right away and it seems to take her a moment to realise she is the one sat on the bench where the brackets for the oars are fixed in place. Adea still does not take hold of them though, instead she reaches for Giesela but this time it is the younger amazon who pulls away.

“Giesela,” she pleads.

Giesela only shakes her head, not willing to get into whatever discussion Adea thinks they should be having right now. “Row me back or I will swim back. I don’t care which.” 

Thankfully Adea takes up the oars and stays silent to the shore but Giesela barely waits for the hull to skim the lake bed before she is jumping out and splashing through the shallows, leaving everything but her satchel as she walks back towards the city. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Adea calls after her but Giesela does not look back. 

As if she hadn’t been confused enough before by her feelings for Adea, or Adea’s feelings for her, now Giesela was bewildered, disappointed and more than a touch livid at her friend’s words. She finally understood Menalippe’s need to brood on the back porch after arguments with her or Antiope because all Giesela wanted to do now was put as much distance between herself and Adea as possible and she didn’t know any other way to do that than to simply keep walking. 

In what seemed like the blink of an eye Giesela found herself clear of the woods and striding through the streets of the Capitol, where women called out greetings but every voice remained muffled and distant to her hearing. It was only when the large iron and oak gates of the Palace comes into view that Giesela recognised where her lost wandering had brought her. 

Orithyia is at the watch post and she nods in greeting. Usually Giesela would stop and talk with whichever Guard was on duty but as she passes the young amazon hides her face by gazing at the cobblestones of the courtyard hoping she will be let by without comment. Avoiding the main entrance Giesela ducks into a corridor by the usually empty guest quarters and once alone in the hallways finally feels the tears she had been fighting sting at her eyes, only making her angrier. 

The fury at least keeps the crying at bay as she reaches the ornate door of the state room adorned with a grove of olive trees and the likeness of Athena. The painted Goddess stands guard to the stateroom’s entry holding out one palm as though she is offering her wisdom to the rulers of the Amazon Nation who would meet here. Stood before the Goddess is Venelia, the same blue eyes and golden hair as the deity looming over her shoulder except the Guard’s blonde hair is still dark where she had washed it this morning, it is also pulled back into a braid not flowing like a lion’s mane in a fierce breeze as the artist had imaged for Athena. 

Every Guard had a trick to occupying themselves when standing watch over an empty corridor. Aella, Venelia knew, played petteia with herself, imaging the pieces moving back and forth across a board. Palla had mastered what she called meditation but the rest of them knew was merely advanced napping. Remarkably she was always able to notice the slightest change of movement or sound around her to be on immediate alert and had never once been caught by Philippus. 

Venelia’s habit was to run poetry through her head or long passages of the epic romances she had read. Of course she kept this fact from everyone but Diana, she knew better than to give her fellow Guards too much ammunition to make fun of her.

After pulling the doors closed on Hippolyta and the amazons the Queen was hosting Venelia had begun silently reciting the declaration of love monologue from her favourite of Thalia’s plays. She was midway through when she heard approaching footsteps and abruptly put an end to her daydreaming, straightening her back and shoulders and standing with her arms ridged at her sides. It had been a long time since Philippus had caught her unprepared but the memory was fresh enough that she was loath to allow it to happen again. When it is only Giesela who appears at the end of the corridor though Venelia slumps back to her relaxed position in relief, leaning against the wall with one shoulder and resting both of her hands over the pommel of the sword at her belt. 

“Giesela,” she greets with a smile. All the Guards have become used to Giesela’s haphazardly timed visits of late, now that the girl’s days were managed around responsibilities of her own and not a schoolroom. “The fates are not in your favour this afternoon, the Queen is meeting with Senators.”

“I need to see Hippolyta,” Giesela says seeming not to have heard Venelia at all, her voice strangled as though it were hard for her to get the words out clearly. 

“And once she is done with her meeting I am sure Hippolyta will be glad to see you,” Venelia offers carefully, watching the young amazon closely in the hope she might discover some clue to explain Giesela’s odd behaviour. Even suspecting something to be amiss Venelia is a little stunned when Giesela begins to cry, to sob in fact. 

Standing in the centre of the corridor the girl looks up to the ceiling bewildered at her own lack of control and when Venelia reaches for her she peddles back to try to get out of the older woman’s reach. 

“No, no.” Venelia tells her gripping Giesela’s shoulders tight as her breathing turns to gasps around the crying. “Come with me.” Gently she guides Giesela to the small reception beside the assembly room that the Queen and the Senators are currently occupying. With a little more pressure on Giesela’s shoulders she gets the girl to sit in one of the dozen chairs lining the wall. She says nothing else but takes deep slow breathes herself until Giesela matches her and the crying eases; when it stops entirely the young woman blinks slowly and then rubs at her eyes with the heel of her palm.

“Giesela?” Venelia ventures, her concern clear in her voice. She crouches before Giesela and runs her hands down the other amazon’s arms, then hips and then to her knees to search for any sign that she might be physically hurt. 

What Venelia thought was a subtle effort to check on Giesela’s welfare did not go unnoticed. “I’m fine,” Giesela tries to assure her. 

“Mmmhmm,” Venelia responds, not believing her for a moment. “Hippolyta will be done with the Senators soon. Stay here and I will bring her to you.” 

Giesela’s only response is a nod as she continues to stare at the wall past Venelia’s shoulder. The Guard stands and thinking it best to give Giesela some time alone to gather herself moves back to her post; Venelia has overheard enough conversations between Giesela and Diana to know the young women does not take well to being so vulnerable, especially under the scrutiny of others. In fact it was Adea’s reaction to such an occasion that lead to their becoming such fast friends, when on one of Giesela’s first days out with the fishing crews Cordelia had barked at her for tangling the lines. Giesela had told Diana that Adea had planted herself between the girl and their Captain until her tears were under control and they could get back to work all without saying a word to Giesela that might make her feel foolish or ashamed.

The wait for Hippolyta to bring the meeting to a close felt excruciatingly long but Venelia heard no more tears from the other room, only the occasional raised voices of the Queen and the Senators behind the door at her back. Finally the scrape of chairs being pushed back signalled the meeting’s end and Venelia stepped to the side just as the doors opened for the Senators to leave. If Khasa’s grin was anything to go by the meeting had concluded with her desired outcome and Timandra following her gave little away that would support or dispute that fact. Charope however practically stomped from the room looking miserable and beaten so Khasa must indeed have received all the resources she was petitioning for. 

Further down the corridor Charope tries to speak up but Timandra has made sure to keep herself between the other two women and holds an arm out to each as if to keep them from physically fighting. “Hippolyta has decided, that is the end of it Charope.”

Once the Senators have disappeared from her sight Venelia steps into the room. Hippolyta has remained seated at the large table with leather portfolios and stacks of papers gathered around her like a defensive wall. The nib of her pen scratches along the top of a sheet of parchment that keeps curling up at the bottom where it must have only recently been taken from a leather case. Hippolyta mutters in frustration each time she has to catch it under the palm of her left hand and flatten it out again. 

“My Queen, Giesela is here to see you.” Hippolyta looks up at Venelia her face lit up at the news, she doesn’t even seem bothered when the parchment flutters up into a tight roll as the tension from having to settle Khasa and Charope’s disagreements melts away at the prospect of time with her niece. Any member of the Royal Guard who was good at her job should be constantly aware of the changing dispositions of their Queen. The current Guard had all noticed their Queen’s shift in mood toward the short-tempered and irritable once her regular walks with Giesela became less frequent and that on the occasions Giesela did find time to spend with her aunt their Queen was left far more agreeable. 

Today though would not be one of those times and it only took a moment for Hippolyta realise as such herself when she finally noticed Venelia’s frown. Sounding just like she did when she was trying to pry a secret from one of the reluctant children Hippolyta asks slowly, “Venelia?” 

“I don’t know what has happened but she is upset. Crying.” Hippolyta obviously found hearing this bit of information as troubling as Venelia had witnessing it as she moved swiftly from her chair, discarding her pen beside the scroll. Venelia watched as the remaining ink it held seeped onto the desk but decided it was probably wise not to mention this to Hippolyta. 

At the door Hippolyta turns to her Guard and Venelia nods toward the reception room before following the Queen back to Giesela. The young amazon has composed herself fully and to anyone who had not seen her emotional outburst earlier appeared perfectly fine. It only takes Hippolyta asking if she is well though for the girl’s facade to collapse again. 

Standing before her Hippolyta places her hands behind Giesela’s head and gently pulls her against her stomach, fingers stroking through tangled blonde hair. Venelia is well practiced at disappearing into the background in her duties and if it had been a friend or colleague of the Queen’s or even her daughters when they were children, Venelia would have stepped back and become as unassuming as any statue in the Palace. But this is her family and instead feels the need to stays close to Giesela, remaining at Hippolyta’s side in case she is needed.

After a time Giesela pulls herself away from Hippolyta and the Queen slackens her hold immediately allowing her to do so. The young women sits back in the chair wiping the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand as Hippolyta crouches in front of her and asks, “What happened, Giesela?” 

“I kissed Adea. But she…” Giesela fumbles to find the words to explain what happened but the kiss had obviously not gone as she had planned. Venelia had rarely found rejection in her various casual relationships but each time things with Diana had ended she had been utterly devastated. Even with only the bare fact that Giesela and Adea had kissed and then something had gone wrong Giesela’s bewildered distress has become far more understandable. 

With a little smile on her lips Hippolyta reaches over to brush a tear away that Giesela had missed. “And did she kiss you back?”

In an instant the sadness vanishes and Giesela is indignant as she fumes, “Yes! And then she wasn’t. And I thought maybe she didn’t like me in that way but she told me she did.” By the end of her rant Giesela’s voice has risen considerably in pitch as if imploring them to understand and to be on her side.

Venelia and Hippolyta share a quick look that confirms they are both sure they have not heard the whole story. Gently, not wanting to trigger either Giesela’s anger or start her crying again, Venelia asks, “Did she say anything else?”

If Venelia had to guess she would say Giesela did not want to admit to them what was said. In the silence her face flushes and she stares down at Hippolyta’s knee cutting through the straps of her long skirt. After a sniff she finally confesses, “She said I was still a child.”

Hippolyta sighs. “Giesela, she may not have meant…” 

“She did,” Giesela cuts in angrily. Following some instinct Giesela had sought out Hippolyta for comfort but now the young amazon wrenches herself up in the chair, her back painfully straight and chin held high, as if pushing her aunt away. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

Hippolyta of course is far too diplomatic to point out that it had been Giesela who had come to her in the first place. Instead she stands and offers her hand out to Giesela. “Very well.” Giesela eyes the offered hand suspiciously as Hippolyta continues, “I have to ride to Masis this afternoon, and I could do with your company.” 

Giesela simply nods in agreement as she takes Hippolyta’s hand and once on her feet allows Hippolyta to guide her along with one hand at the small of her back. They gathering up the papers from the meeting, Venelia and Giesela sharing the load between them, and walk back to the Queen’s private study. Along the way Hippolyta fills Giesela in on the much needed visit to Khasa’s town to inspect the grain stores and of the decisions still to be made over the resources they should get for the next harvest of the wheat fields.

When Venelia finishes her shift not much later she has to navigate the pack of horses already saddled and milling about the courtyard for the journey to Masis, as well as stable attendants and the Guards that will accompany Hippolyta and Giesela. She is barely halfway down the hill between the Palace and home when the group ride out past her, Hippolyta leading and a solemn Giesela riding at her side.

The wide double gate to the courtyard of her home are open but Venelia doesn’t see anyone inside. She and Diana had planned for only a small table and a scattering of chairs to sit outside amongst the clay pots of herb bushes and bright purple flowering trees but it hadn’t taken long to realise they entertained more under the blue sky or the stars than they did in their purpose built dining room. So Venelia had asked Derinoe to fashion a larger and more extravagant table to share with guests which now dominated much of the space when it was not moved aside for Venelia or Diana to run sword drills or Arno to race around at play. 

Currently the table is pushed against one of the white washed walls as only a single side was needed to seat herself, Diana and Arno. Venelia spots a scrap of paper fluttering on its top, one corner pinned down beneath a smooth grey stone. When she picks it up she reads the scribbled words in Arno’s messy handwriting, ‘gone fishing’. Smiling Venelia folds the note and tucks it into a pocket then moves the stone from the table and sets it down beside one of the plant pots. Perhaps her son might bring home their dinner and save them the trouble of deciding what to prepare. 

Inside their courtyard all the sounds of the City are hushed. The Capitol’s heart, its busy market square, is only a couple of streets away but sheltered behind their walls it seems like a far greater distance. In the quiet it is easy for Venelia to hear the faint noises from the armoury that tell her Diana has also returned home, though if it was before or after Arno left his note she cannot be sure. 

Venelia finds Diana stood before the long work bench in centre of the armoury they use for cleaning and sharpening blades, fletching arrows and restringing bows. Currently a pile of arrow shafts and freshly made fletches lay on the worktop. When Venelia enters Diana has just finished tying one of them and is turned away from the doorway placing the new arrow in one of the quivers that hang from the wall. Venelia is not foolish enough to think Diana isn’t aware of her approach but her partner does play along, allowing Venelia to catch her around the waist and pull the dark haired woman around to face her. 

Diana continues to move back to the workbench even in Venelia’s arms, dropping kisses to Venelia’s lips as they go. Finally satisfied with her welcome Venelia loosens her grip, her left hand trailing over Diana’s stomach as she steps to the side allowing the Lieutenant to continue her work.

“How was your day?” they ask at the same time, making Diana smile and Venelia roll her eyes. The Guard drags a stool from the corner of the room to sit beside Diana then leans against her. 

When Diana lifts her elbow attempting to secure a fletch to the next arrow it allows Venelia to wrap her arms around Diana’s waist again and bury her head into her partner’s side. “Tell me all about training. Who is strong and valiant enough to defend Themyscira and who has fallen short and will now suffer at the General’s displeasure?” 

Venelia can feel Diana’s chuckle against her cheek. She doesn’t really pay attention to the details of Diana’s answer (should Diana quiz her later Venelia would not be able to say who won the wrestling bouts or got the highest scores on the target ranges) Venelia is lost simply listening to the low hum of Diana’s voice.

When Diana finishes talking Venelia notices the arrows have all been crafted, a neat row across the table, leaving Diana free to turn in her arms. Venelia spreads her knees apart to allow Diana to stand between them and Diana places her palms on Venelia’s cheeks, tilting her face to look up from her current eye line which is the curve of Diana’s breasts bound in a dark leather bodice. “And how was your day?” 

The Princess obviously does not expect an answer right away as she leans down for a kiss, her thighs pressing against the stool as she gets as close to Venelia as she possibly can. When Diana leans back her hands remain cupping Venelia’s face as if she is scrutinising a work of art. “My mother and the Palace still stand I hope.”

Though it is not as light-hearted as Diana might have hoped Venelia begins to fill her partner in on Giesela’s visit to the Palace. As she speaks Diana moves away from her to fuss about the armoury and by the time Venelia is telling Diana about the kiss the other woman has a stool of her own pulled over and they are sat face to face. 

“I knew they had feelings for each other.” 

“Who has feelings for each other?” Arno suddenly interrupts and they both look to the door to find their son home, head ducked around the door frame. 

“No one,” Venelia tells him. “Did you catch us dinner?” 

The boy steps into the armoury, eleven now Arno is almost up to Venelia’s shoulder in height and growing taller every day. His eyes may be the same blue as hers but whenever Venelia looks at Arno she sees all the ways he is like Diana; his smile, his gentleness, his confidence. He holds up his arm, now muscled from practice since moving onto the full size swords, to present a brace of over a dozen small silver fish and grins at his mothers.

Under the orange and purple sky of sunset Diana grills the fish over the copper fire bowl with peppers, kolokýthi and onions and then the small family sit in the courtyard sharing their meal together. As they eat Arno revels in being the centre of his mothers’ attention, telling them all about his morning in school; how he had enjoyed learning about different painters and their techniques and how he had not enjoyed studying his mathematics. Then he shares the details of his afternoon fishing at the bridge in the same way a bard shares an epic saga that might be sung through the ages, finishing his tale with a touch of gossip. 

“Grandmother rode by on her way to Masis. Giesela with her but she looked miserable, like she was being punished. Do you think she did something to get in trouble and Menalippe made her go?” Noticing Venelia and Diana sharing a look but not understanding the context he continues, “Isn’t she too old now to get in trouble with her mothers?”

“You are never too old to get in trouble with your mothers,” Venelia warns him. Alarmed by this piece of information Arno looks to Diana for confirmation and she nods sagely from her own experience. 

Taking the warning to heart Arno is quick to volunteer to clear the table and wash the plates when the meal is done. Once Venelia knows he is out of earshot she says, “I should go talk with her.”

“Giesela?” 

“Adea.”

The look from her partner in no uncertain terms tells Venelia that Diana believes going to talk to Adea would be more interfering than helping. Venelia hides her face behind her cup taking a long swallow of wine as Diana warns her, “Venelia, no one has asked you to.”

Venelia puts the cup down on the table and leans across to Diana, grasping her hands as though making a plea for Diana’s approval. “I know, but… I don’t think Adea really means it. Giesela said Adea admitted she had feelings for her. She is just confused. I understand that”

Diana’s sad smile shows her heart is also aching for the two women. Letting go of Diana’s hands Venelia pushes her chair back and moves to stand behind her love. She wraps one arm around Diana’s waist and the other across her chest and Diana’s hand reaches up to close over her wrist. 

Venelia begins to mutter against Diana’s hair and then continues to kiss her way down to Diana’s ear, “Who would have guessed that the little girl I had to escort to the Palace every time she was caught up to no good would grow up to be the love of my life?”

As Venelia’s lips continue lower to Diana’s neck her partner pushes her away with a laugh. “Fine, go play Eros.” 

Grinning as though she has just won a great contest of wills Venelia gives Diana one swift kiss goodbye and then heads out in search of the errant sailor. She knew Adea lived in one of the small villas along the banks of the Kalamas River, where its mouth opens into the ocean, but she has no idea which one. Instead of knocking at the doors randomly Venelia instead decides to walk by the taverns and kitchens around the marketplace where she might find some of the sailors to be able to ask after Adea. 

But as luck would have it Venelia finds the woman herself at the first tavern she passes, the Labrys. Outside the small building was a wooden trellis similar to the one in the Palace’s walled courtyard with leaves of vines thick enough that women could sit drinking their cool crisp wine and still stay dry whilst summer rain battered on the leafy roof above. Now the sun had set lanterns hung from the beams creating a soft green glow over the patrons’ heads.

Adea sat in a corner alone and as Venelia made her way over to the other woman she noticed the eyes of a number of Adea’s fellow patrons following her with interest. The fisherwoman was giving off all the signs that she did not want to be disturbed while she was in her cups and the other amazons seemed intrigued that Venelia obviously intended to ignore this. 

Pulling a stool out from under the table opposite Adea, Venelia sat herself at the table. She and Diana had not known Adea well before Giesela began to spend time at the harbour but over the past few years Adea had spent many nights in their company among larger groups of friends drinking at tables like this one and sharing the benches of the amphitheatre or blankets on the beach. They had also hosted Giesela and Adea at their home, on muggy afternoons when they all slumped in the shade of the courtyard saying little or nothing and stormy evenings wrapped up before the fireplace trying to quiet each other down so as not to wake Arno with their laughter.

Adea does not tell her to leave as Venelia almost expected. In fact she sits for a long time ignoring Venelia’s presence but when the other woman does eventually look up from her cup she seems more than a little embarrassed and resigned to her misery.

“How?” she asks, the word slurred enough for Venelia to know this is not even close to the first drink Adea has had this evening. 

“Giesela came to Hippolyta.” 

Adea nods, and keeps nodding as though she forgot she was doing so. When she does stops herself Adea blinks a few times to clear the light-headedness. “Is she okay?” the first two words blur into each other and Venelia reaches across the table to pull the wine cup away. 

Adea doesn’t put up a fight or even seem to notice it has been moved. Given Adea’s condition Venelia decides it is best to get to the point and keep things simple. “You love her?”

Adea’s face crumples, her frown deepening on her lips and chin quivering faintly. “So much, but…” 

Before the inevitable rambling begins Venelia waves her off. “No but. Giesela is no more a child than Diana or Evandre. She is a young woman.” After pausing to check she still has Adea’s attention and that the sailor is following her words Venelia continues, “She will always be younger in years than all of us but Astrid and Ilse. Would you deny her any chance at love due to that?”

Adea looks pained, and a little glassy eyed, but also hopeful that she is being offered a lifeline. 

“I know it is difficult to see them now and not think of the child they were but it is the woman you love Adea. The child is only a memory.”

“I hurt her.”

Perhaps Adea expects Venelia to correct her, to say that Giesela is fine, but Venelia will not lie to her. “Yes, you did. She is angry and confused but if you are brave enough to face her you can set things right. Though I would suggest you check she has no weapons within reach when you do.”

Instead of looking appropriately concerned Adea has a proud smirk on her face at the idea of Giesela’s wrath and now Venelia knows Adea has had far too much to drink. How had none of them but Diana seen this woman is totally besotted with the younger amazon? 

“Come on, I’ll help you home to bed.”

Venelia guides the stumbling woman back to her villa hoping that come morning Adea, with a clearer but pounding head, will go to Giesela and profess her love. For the moment though she is left half carrying the other women through the empty streets wondering how long it will take for her to dump Adea safely in her bed and return to the bed and love of her own. 

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In the early morning frail rays of sunlight hit the surface of the ocean causing it to sparkle silver and gold. Only a few boats bob in the harbour with the majority of the fleet already out but as always the place is still busy, those left on dry land having plenty of jobs of their own to do. 

At the end of the dock Cordelia is inspecting the inside hull of a boat Damaris had been repairing when she hears the commotion. Blinking against the sun’s glare she sees a few of her dock hands by the administration buildings attempting to hold back General Antiope. When the women glance nervously her way Cordelia warns them off with a barely noticeable shake of her head allowing Antiope to storm towards her unopposed. 

When it came to her fleet Cordelia knew as much as Antiope did of her army and both commanders were aware that keeping up on the gossip prepared you for many things. Cordelia made it a point to know who had been out late and would not make the morning roll, of the romances gone wrong or romances gone right that would require the last minute juggling of boat crews. This morning her little fishes had reported back on Adea’s evening at the Labrys, with more than a few whispering excitedly about the mysterious appearance of Venelia on the scene. As such Cordelia had anticipated she would not see either Adea or Giesela this morning but she had not expected Antiope’s fiery entrance on the dock, though perhaps she should have.

“Where is she?” Antiope demands in a low, quiet growl the moment she reaches Cordelia. 

“She’s not here Antiope. And even if she were I would not tell you when you are like this.” 

Antiope bristles and her fingers unconsciously clench into fists, at least Cordelia hopes it is just instinct and not an intentional gesture. “Cordelia.” It is quite impressive how Antiope manages to make just saying her name a command all on its own but the Harbour Master is not willing to yield her ground. 

“No General. You cannot come storming down to my harbour demanding to know where one of my sailors are. You can come back when you have calmed down.” 

Cordelia had not been under Antiope’s command in decades and even when she was she had not liked to take orders; their friendship had fared better when she hadn’t had to either. With Antiope still reluctant to back down Cordelia warns her, “You can either take yourself off my dock or I will do it for you.” Then she inclines her head towards the water. 

“You wouldn’t dare.” Cordelia raises her eyebrows waiting for Antiope to realise that she would be utterly outmatched in close hand combat as only Artemis had ever managed to take Cordelia’s feet out from under her in a wrestling match. At the end of the narrow dock they were on unfamiliar ground for the General and fortunately for Cordelia, Antiope had not come armed to hunt down Adea. She held all the advantages.

After a few moments Antiope finally sees the wisdom in yielding, for now at least. When the General unclenches her fists and drops her fighting stance Cordelia holds out a hand to direct Antiope back to the shore. “Come to my office.”

Antiope does her best to ignore the glances and whispers of the women they pass but she knows the incident will be the talk of the Capitol by midday; which means her wife will know by the afternoon and Antiope will likely face some stern words from Menalippe in the near future. She steps into the administration building ahead of Cordelia and slumps down into the closest chair once inside the office. Following her the Harbour Master closes the door behind them, a rare thing indeed that will only hasten the rumours. 

Cordelia takes her seat behind her desk before asking, “What happened?”

The previous afternoon seemed like a lifetime away now, when Antiope and Menalippe had finished with sword drills and melees and target ranges for the day and ridden down to the marketplace together. It wasn’t often they shared the same saddle and Antiope had enjoyed the feeling of Menalippe pressed against her back, her wife’s fingers brushing over her bare stomach as they swayed together with the horse’s movements. While Mena had gone to the butcher for fresh rabbit, the only thing they would need to make Giesela’s favourite stew as the vegetables, garlic, bay leaves and coriander would all come from their garden, Antiope had ridden ahead to take Enyo to the communal stables by their house. 

She had a pot already filled and simmering over the fire for the stock by the time Menalippe strolled through the door, dropping the wax paper parcel of rabbit meat and a bag of pastries onto the kitchen counter. When Antiope had reached eagerly for the treats her wife had slapped her hand away and they were still playfully battling over the bag when Giesela returned home. The expected teasing for them to act like adults or to take their flirting somewhere out of their daughter’s sight had not come. Giesela had not even greeted them as she swept straight to her room. 

Puzzled both Antiope, who was hunched over protecting the pastry bag held against her stomach and Menalippe who was practically on top of her back reaching for it, froze in place until a light cough announced someone else’s presence and they both turned to find Hippolyta hovering in their doorway. Antiope and Menalippe fell apart easily, and after ignoring her mothers and leaving her aunt stood on the doorstep Menalippe made to follow Giesela with a reprimand hot on her lips. Hippolyta stepped inside and stopped Menalippe before she could reach the other side of the room by saying, “You may want to give her a little time alone.”

Hippolyta had sat with Menalippe at the table while Antiope stood over the fire stirring at the pot and they both listened to what had occurred earlier in the day and of Hippolyta’s attempt to keep Giesela from dwelling on it. When her sister had left Antiope and Menalippe ate their dinner in silence listening out for any sign their daughter might need them but none came. It was dark outside before Menalippe’s resolve broke and she took a bowl of the stew over to Giesela’s bedroom, tapping lightly on the door until a muffled leave to enter was given.

Antiope had remained at the door as though she was standing sentry while Menalippe sat on the bed beside Giesela. There didn’t seem to be any tears and the young woman only huffed out “I was stupid” when Mena rubbed a hand across her back.

“No. Taking a chance is never stupid,” Menalippe tried to reassure her but Giesela just blew out another exasperated breath shaking her head.

“Then Adea was stupid,” Giesela finally announced and Antiope couldn’t help snorting a laugh despite Menalippe shooting her a warning glance to behave.

“Perhaps a little,” Mena admitted though. The hand on Giesela’s back came up to comb her fingers through her blonde hair, tangled from swimming and riding. Antiope knew Menalippe was probably desperate to brush out their daughter’s hair, rub sweet scented oil through it and tie it back in a braid but Giesela would be unlikely to allow it tonight so the gentle raking of her fingers would have to suffice. “You are best friends and you will work through this together I have no doubt.” 

After some coaxing Giesela had eaten half a bowl then told both her mothers that she wanted to be alone. They had respected her wishes in so far as leaving her room but Antiope and Menalippe had spent the rest of the evening treading lightly by Giesela’s door in case she called out for one of them.

At sun-up this morning Antiope had sent word to Artemis that she was to take over the morning drills. She had expected to find their daughter still brooding in her room but when she pushed the creaking door open to peak in she had found it empty. The bedding was barely disturbed so it was unlikely Giesela had slept any of the time she had shut herself away and then she had left the house while it was still dark. 

Finding herself unable to offer any kind of help to Giesela, Antiope had instead come straight to the docks.

“And just what did you plan to do Antiope?” Cordelia asks her now. The other woman has settled back into her chair, so much so she has tilted the front legs off the floor a fraction.

Antiope was loath to do so but in the end admitted to her old friend, “I hadn’t thought that far ahead.” Cordelia seemed a little too delighted to hear Antiope confess to the fact that her daughter was her Achilles’ heel. She was a General who could plan out the destruction of the world’s greatest armies in battle but faced with a hurt child she had only wanted to charge down here and demand Adea fix her mistakes. 

The smugness in Cordelia’s smile softened slightly. “I heard Adea was drowning her sorrows yesterday. I think in a day or so they will have worked this through themselves.”

“If they don’t you may find yourself short one sailor,” Antiope mutters irritably but the look Cordelia gives her seems to imply she doesn’t believe for a second that she would hurt Adea. 

“Go find something useful to do Antiope. I know I certainly have better things to occupy my time with than to babysit you.” 

“You know you can’t actually order me around don’t you Cordelia,” Antiope says as Cordelia yanks her good-naturedly from the chair and when she is pushed to the door the General has to do her best not to stomp out of the office. 

Taking Cordelia’s advice though Antiope thinks the most useful thing she can do is head to the training grounds and challenge Otrera or Penthesilea to a few rounds with swords. The women are two of her feistiest soldiers and would readily agree to fight dirty, throwing punches and kicks in with the thrusts of their swords, in an effort to relieve some of their commander’s frustrations. Both of the women had a habit of favouring emotion over technique when they had a sword in their hands and that was exactly what Antiope needed right now. 

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Tomorrow perhaps, Giesela thought, she might return to the harbour but she could not summon the energy to face Adea just yet or honestly even move now she was back on her bed gazing up at the ceiling. 

All night she had been restless, wanting to pace her room like a caged animal but she knew her mothers might hear and she did not want to deal with their well-intentioned but cloying sympathy or to end up taking her emotions out on them. But before dawn Giesela could stand it no longer and left the house, sneaking out as quietly as she could to avoid waking Antiope or Menalippe. She had walked aimlessly through the quiet deserted streets until she knew her parents would have started their day and then made her way back to the silent empty house. 

The moment Giesela had collapsed back onto her mattress every ounce of energy drained from her; she barely had the strength to lift her arm and yet still she couldn’t sleep. She told herself over and over that when she saw Adea again the older woman would be able to pretend Giesela had never kissed her and their friendship could go back to the way it was. And then inevitably she would think about the kiss and wish beyond anything else that she might get another. 

No, she had to do something, anything to stop her mind straying back to the memory of a kiss that should never have happened or worrying over all the things she could have done differently or not at all. Continuing like this would lead to madness. 

She threw herself up off the bed with resolve and then headed across the living area to the bathroom. It was still early enough that the water of the shower room was icy cold, the sun having not yet crept around the side of the house to heat the tank. Goosebumps rose on her flesh but she imagined the rain falling over her was shedding away an old skin and by the time she was done, cold, clean and smelling of pomegranate soap, Giesela felt lighter than she had in a day.

As she crossed the living area to her own room Giesela heard a hesitant knock at the main door followed by a cautious whisper, “Giesela? Are you there?”

For a moment she kept as still as possible hoping Adea would simply go away but then the desire to see the other woman was just too great. When she opens the door just a crack Adea seems startled she had actually answered, then a touch fearful as she asks, “Are your mothers home too?”

Giesela doesn’t trust her voice to answer so she only shakes her head and relief washes over Adea’s face. The older woman reaches for the doorframe to lean against it like it might be helping to keep her upright and lets out a breath. “I don’t think I could face all three of you for this.” 

Giesela stays at the door, one palm pressed flat against the inside and the other gripping the knot at the top of her towel that is pulled together just across her breastbone, intrigued as to what Adea has to say to her but mostly wanting just to look at her. At the moment though the older amazon does not look too great; Adea’s darker skin seems pallid making the purple smudges under her eyes stand out all the more and a light sheen of sweat shines on her forehead. 

“I am sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you. It’s just so different and I didn’t know how to handle what I felt.”

“And how do you feel?” Giesela bites down on her lower lip waiting for the answer but stops immediately when there is a sting of pain and she remembers her lip is still swollen and sore after a night of giving in to her nervous habit. Instead she digs her fingernails into the wood of the door.

“I love you,” Adea replies, kicking nervously at the air with one foot before she pushes herself away from the doorframe to stand straight. Far more assertively she adds, “I think maybe I have for a while now.” 

This time Giesela bites her lip to try to hide her smile and the pain is a little welcome, reminding her that she is not willing to let Adea off quite so easily. 

Adea seems to realise she has a little more work to do and continues, “It was unfair to call you a child. Do you think… do you think you could forgive me?”

“I might be able to do that.” 

Giesela holds her ground as Adea leans forward then stops barely a breath away and waits for their eyes to meet. Adea blinks slowly like a cat in the sun then presses forward. When their lips touch Giesela leans her weight onto metal ring of the door latch, balancing on her toes to match Adea’s height. The kiss is slow and tender but when they finally part both women are still a little giddy and Giesela finds herself unable to stop grinning as Adea pushes a strand of damp hair away from her cheek. 

“Do you want to come in?” Giesela asks. 

The moment Giesela steps aside Adea practically bounds through the doorway but when Giesela turns around after latching it closed the older amazon is motionless staring at her. Gulping Adea manages to request, “Could you, maybe, put some clothes on? It’s a little distracting.”

“Oh really?” Giesela’s voice drips with amusement, thinking of all the times she’s been in far less than the towel in front of Adea and taking more than a bit of pleasure in knowing it must have had an effect on the other woman. While she intends to have a lot of fun with that at a later date, for now Giesela pecks Adea on the cheek then goes into her room to dress. When she is decent and has taken a quick moment to relocate some of the scattered clothing from her floor to a hidden corner of the room Giesela calls out to let Adea know it is safe for her to come in.

Their conversation falls into an easy and familiar rhythm though they both circle the room nervously keeping a distance from each other. Their orbits grow smaller bringing them closer until they are sat beside each other on Giesela’s bed with their backs resting against the wall and in some ways it feels like nothing ever changed between them. But Giesela can feel her skin tingle where she and Adea are pressed together and Adea’s fingertips flutter by hers where their hands rest on their thighs as though longing to touch. 

“This is a little strange for you too right?” Adea asks in a timid whisper. “I’ve never been in love with my best friend before.”

“Well that makes both of us then,” Giesela assures her with a small laugh.

“We’ll be okay though.” 

Giesela can’t be sure if Adea means it as a question or not but she takes Adea’s hand, knotting their fingers together and promises, “We’ll be okay.”

WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW

When Adea wakes she is not in her own bed but she is in a familiar one. From her room at home Adea can hear the river through the shuttered windows and the different movements of the water, whether it is flowing softly or rushing with the force of heavy rains or melted mountain snow. But here she is woken as always by a rather loud cockerel. 

Groaning she fumbles a pillow around her head to cover her ears until the bird stops then cracks one eye open to see Giesela beside her. The younger woman must have been awake a little while as she is sat propped up against her pillows with a book resting on her lap. A warm yellow light floods the room and the walls are dappled with faint shadows where the sunlight passes through the leaves of orchard trees outside the window. 

Adea stuffs the pillow back under her head, thumping it a few times for good measure and screws up her eyes again. Then she feels Giesela nudge her with an elbow. “You’re making sleeping late a habit.” 

After the week of punishment duties at the harbour for missing their assigned shifts Cordelia had allowed Adea and Giesela to be scheduled together on fishing crews. The Harbour Master had never actually asked either of them about their relationship but occasionally Cordelia’s voice would ring out across the docks telling the pair of them to get back to work when she caught them distracting each other from their duties, muttering ‘lovebirds’ with a long suffering sigh as she headed back to her office.

For the past four days Adea and Giesela had been out on the water without rest, battling to bring in the fish against a summer storm, and Adea was certain she required just as many days to recover. When Cordelia had finally dismissed them early in the afternoon she and Giesela had both stumbled exhausted from the harbour to Giesela’s house where Menalippe prepared what came close to a feast. Adea had eaten as though ravenous and then promptly fallen asleep by the warmth of the fireplace like a sated lioness. Groggily she had woken to Giesela pulling her from the soft confines of the arm chair and Antiope’s affable mocking before being led sleepily to Giesela’s room and to bed at what was a ridiculously early time of the evening. 

Their day off today was well deserved and Adea intended to make the most of it, starting with lazing in bed beside Giesela. Regrettably she had not shared her plans with Menalippe. Giesela’s mother rapped her knuckles on the frame solidly even though Adea had already heard the hinges squeak open and barked, “Giesela, up.” 

Giesela groans and Adea assumes she then throws her book in protest as there is a heavy thump of something hitting against her legs beneath the cover.

Menalippe obviously isn’t intimidated and taunts sweetly, “I thought you were used to early mornings?” 

“Not ones that start with being abducted from my bed and forced to run up a mountain,” Giesela moans.

Menalippe’s footsteps retreat from the room but as she goes Adea hears clearly, “Always so dramatic.”

A breathy laugh escapes Adea before she can stop herself and she prepares for Giesela’s retaliation but it never comes. Instead the mattress shifts as Giesela gets up as her mother demanded and there is a brief chill even in the sunny room when the blanket is drawn away. Adea makes a blind grab for the cover and pulls it back in to cocoon herself on the bed. 

“And you are okay with this? You won’t defend me at all?” Giesela asks in mock seriousness as she moves about the room to find her clothes and shoes. 

Adea mumbles in agreement as she rolls her face into the pillow. “We’ll stay at my house next time.” She feels Giesela’s lips press against her forehead which is just about the only part of her not burrowed into the blankets and it leaves Adea smiling into her pillow, sure that by the time she wakes again Giesela will be back beside her.


End file.
